


The Night Is Dark And Full Of Terrors

by vevericka93



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Blackmail, Captivity, Comfort/Angst, Drug-Induced Sex, Explicit Language, Friendship, Hurt Steve McGarrett, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, NSFW, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Physical Abuse, Presumed Dead, Protective Danny "Danno" Williams, Psychological Trauma, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Torture, Tortured on Camera, Video Cameras
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26411302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vevericka93/pseuds/vevericka93
Summary: Steve McGarrett is captured to blackmail Danny and the rest of the team. Danny knows he can't give in to the demands, so he and the team try to get their leader back their own way. Unfortunately for Steve, the rescue mission goes wrong and makes his life a whole new kind of hell. Will Danny be able to forgive himself? Will Steve make it out in one piece?
Comments: 62
Kudos: 98





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, this fic wasn't supposed to be THAT dark, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone when writing it. It's my first time writing something like this and I'm not entirely sure how this turned out, so I'm posting it hoping for your opinions. If you guys like it, I'll post more.
> 
> Please read the tags! If it's not your cup of tea or triggers you in any way, don't keep reading.

The calming rustling of the ocean, the salty air in his lungs, a warm breeze running through his hair. Big fire ball over the horizon, painting the clouds on the sky warm orange, calm waves washing over his body. The blue waters of the deep ocean underneath him. Deep and endless, like his pain. Pain that made it more and more difficult to imagine being somewhere in the ocean instead of here. Pain too intense to let him focus on anything else.

Steve’s whole body ached from kneeling for way too long, from his neck all the way down his spine. The muscles in his thighs cramped, making him sway from side to side to try and alleviate the pain and soothe the burning sensation. The thin but sturdy rope cut deep into his wrists bound behind his back, scraping against the raw wounds from before. 

He wished he could just take a few seconds break, to stand up, sit, or lay down. Anything, really, to stop the wire bottom of the cage biting into his knees. But the rope snaking around his neck continued all the way up somewhere over the top of the cage that marked the ceiling of his prison. The ceiling way too low for a grown man, barely an inch or two above the top of Steve’s head. The rope was just the right length as long as he kept his back straight and remained on his knees, but crushing his windpipe if he tried to bend over ever so slightly.

They wanted him on his knees, if the cage, the rope, and the pleased smiles and sounds they made were something to judge by. 

The tiny cage was good, though. Safe, almost. Like his sanctuary. He’d spent countless… days? in here and no one had hurt him as long as he was inside. So the cage was good, never mind the agony rippling through him from the head to toe, never mind the broken bones, never mind the bruised and bleeding shins and knees.

The solitude in his prison never took long, though. They liked to drag him out like a beaten animal he was reduced to, using the rope on his neck as a leash. They liked to hurt him in a ways hard to even imagine, let alone get through in one piece. They liked to make him feel worthless, to make him believe there was no light in this world of the darkness. 

To make him lose hope. To make him wish for it to end, one way or another.

And he could end it, he knew he could. If his trembling thighs gave in, the gravity and the tight rope on his neck would take care of the rest. But every time he thought he was at that point, he dug out the remaining strength and will to hold on for just a little longer. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of giving up. If they wanted him dead, they’d have to kill him themselves when they came back. And they always came back.

It felt like the hours passed, but the time had lost its meaning the day he’d been captured. A minute could be drawn out to last a lifetime in this place. An hour could vanish in the blink of an eye as consciousness fled. A day in hell meant nothing as it blurred into oblivion. There was no time here. Just endless suffering. 

But none of it mattered. 

Because he wouldn’t let them break him. His soul was unbreakable. 

Whatever happened, his captors wouldn’t get that satisfaction. If this was the end, and Steve knew that the odds of that had never been higher, he was free to delve into his memories now. Free to take the strength he needed from them to accept the hand he’d been dealt.

For some reason, the first thought on his mind was Danny, sitting there above him as Steve opened his eyes after his ordeal at the hands of Taliban in Afghanistan. He’d never expected to see the blonde man’s face when he woke up. And it was hard not to let the surprise show in his intense glare.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” Danny asked in a low, calm voice.

“I can’t believe you flew all this way.”

“I had to make sure you were okay,” Danny said matter-of-factly. “Plus, you owe me $500 from that poker game.” 

Even after everything he’d been through, Steve laughed at that through the painful cough. It made him smile. Even now. 

_They can’t take it from you._

Steve shifted on his knees.

He couldn’t stop Danny’s happy face to emerge once again, awaiting Steve’s reaction to one of the best gifts he’d ever received. 

It wasn’t easy to keep his voice from breaking. “Danny, that’s, uh…”

“Nice, right?”

“Nice?”

“Yeah.”

No, not just nice. Steve was in awe, looking for the words. “It’s… it’s beautiful. You kidding me?”

“Figured you start playing again, maybe play that song you never got to play.”

Not the guitar itself moved him as deeply as a gesture it represented. The gesture saying to face his fear and never let the it stand in his way. The gesture of love. Pure and real. One of a kind.

_Danny loves you. They can’t take that from you._

He thought about all the great nights out with the team, with Duke, with Kamekona and Flippa, with Nahele, with all the members of his ohana that has been growing since the day Steve decided to make Danny his partner against his will. 

_You’ve started something great. A big family, ready to do the right thing for each other when no one else will. They’ll never forget you._

Steve smiled at the floor, and tears stung his eyes. 

He had those memories and a million others. They were all his. 

_Whatever happens today, no one can take those memories from you._

The rope was digging into his neck and wrists, scraping against the bleeding skin. He kept his gaze on the floor the whole time, trying hard not to look up. There was a reason they made him kneel in this room. It was full of the instruments of his torture, and Steve didn’t want to look at them. He knew from experience that if he let himself dwell on them, to guess which one they might use today, he’d be a mess before it even began. And today, he needed to hold himself together for as long as he could. 

Today was different, he could feel it in his bones. A chill, hardly explainable, buried deep inside and spreading slowly. Something bad was going to happen. Something worse. But at least he could hold himself together until then. 

_Whatever happens in here, you know no one can help you._

Steve shut his eyes close, his mind still wandering through the haze of the memories, good and bad. The happy days spent on a beach with Mary and their parents when he was a little boy. The day his mother died, for the first time. The day Joe bailed him out of prison, changing the course of his life without even realizing it. The day he realized he’d found a purpose in his life when he joined the teams. The days he’d lost his comrades, fighting so others would be safe. The day he listened to his father’s murder through the phone. The day Danny trained a gun at him in the garage of his father’s house, not knowing what kind of friendship would it begin. 

_Whatever happens today, they won’t take this from you. Whatever happens today, they won’t break you._

They’d soon bring him to the point he didn’t care, just like the previous days. They usually dragged it out, laughing at his futile attempts to fight, but eventually, they always got him to the edge. To the point he could scream and not care. But it was okay. He wanted to be in a place where he didn’t care. He always told himself that the waiting for them to come and drag him out of his cage was the worst, and some crazy part of him always believed it until the real torture began. 

He kept his eyes closed counting the heartbeats in complete silence. Today would be worse. He didn’t know how he knew it, he just did. 

Time passed, and cramps in his thighs grew unbearable. To the point that, once again, he contemplated just letting go. Just for a brief moment though, until his training kicked back in.

_I will never quit. I persevere and thrive on adversity. If knocked down, I will get back up every time._

He shuffled his aching knees, willing his body to remain upright just a little longer. There was no easy way out. Not now, not ever. Moments like this determined who he was. And he was a lot of things in his life, but never a quitter. 

_The only easy day was yesterday._

It’s been so long he almost wished they came for him again. He’d take it, as they told him to, whatever torture they chose. He always did.

When he heard the footsteps approaching, he was almost relieved. 

“Showtime, McGarrett!” 

Steve tilted his head up as much as the rope allowed him. It was Doug, Jax’s right hand, with three other men whose names Steve didn’t know. Not that he didn’t remember their faces by now. He’ll hardly ever forget those.

Someone slackened the rope forcing him to remain straightened up, and his whole body slumped down in relief. It was momentarily, he knew that, because it’d get worse. It always got worse. 

Doug unlocked the industrial lock on the cage, opened up the door and stepped aside. “Get out!” he barked at Steve. 

He could resist, he could stay there, refusing to do as ordered, but the memory of what they’ve done to him the last time he had such a bright idea was too vivid on his mind. Scanning the new arrivals, he couldn’t miss a cattle prod in one man’s hands. They’d get him out with or without his compliance. And make him regret if he chose the latter. Slowly, he shuffled forward, scraping his raw, bloodied knees on the wire. 

Fury curled Doug’s lips. “I don’t have the whole day.” He grabbed Steve by the hair and pulled him the rest of the way, forcing him to his knees once again, this time on the hard, stone floor. Steve winced with the impact, barely swallowing back a whimper trying to escape his throat.

“Is there a problem?” Doug taunted as the other man grabbed hold of the end of the rope.

Even if he wanted to answer, his parched throat wouldn’t allow him much more than a croaked whisper. 

“That’s what I thought,” Doug sneered and yanked on his hair, forcing Steve look up at him. “Learnt your lesson yet?”

Nothing more than silence and a baleful look was Steve’s answer. The answer that earned him a hard blow into his stomach. He grunted as he hunched forward, and before he had a chance to recover, someone forced a black fabric over his head, obliterating the view. He felt a trickle of sweat run down his back. This was new. They liked watching his face when hurting him. They liked watching the fight dissipate from his eyes slowly, minute by minute, hour by hour, every time, until the unconsciousness claimed him. They liked to wake him up then, so they could watch him struggle over and over again. But they’ve never blindfolded him before.

So his feeling must’ve been right. Today was different somehow.

_Whatever happens today, they won’t break you._

Exhaustion was freezing him to the bones, agony gnawing at him. But he wouldn’t give in. He fought them with what little movement he was allowed with his hands bound behind him. He fought with everything he’d left to keep them away from him. A futile attempt to postpone the inevitable. 

But in a second, he had a bigger problem. He couldn’t breathe.

He whipped his head back and forth, gasping for the air that wasn’t there, the rope around his neck crushing his windpipe. His vision went half dark by the time he stopped struggling, accepting this was a fight he couldn’t win, and let his body relax a little. Just then the hold loosened enough for him to take a lungful of precious air. 

“Get him up,” he heard Dough order and felt someone pulling him up by his bound wrists. His chest heaved with exertion and if they didn’t hold him up, he was certain his knees would give out on him. 

“Can we keep him?” someone behind him asked.

He shuddered as he felt a hot, humid breath on his neck and a warm hand, surprisingly gentle, running down his naked torso, to the top edge of his boxers, the only piece of cloth he wasn’t stripped off. The hand wandered his aching muscles and Steve tried to wrench himself free, but to no avail.

“Stop struggling, McGarrett,” Doug said from somewhere in front of him. “Or I swear I’ll let Barry here have his fun before the boss arrives. But who knows, maybe you’d like it. Is that why you won’t stop wriggling?” 

A sudden chill ran down his spine with the threat. His first instinct was to fight even more, fight for the very last piece of dignity he’d left, but from experience, he knew Doug always lived up to his threats. Instead, he stiffened and the hand he suspected belonged to the man called Barry, stopped roaming his chest and belly, to his great relief. 

Today would be different. But they wouldn’t go there, right? They wouldn’t. 

A sharp tug dug the rope deeper into the broken skin on his neck and pulled him forward a few steps. Then the door opened and closed, and slow, calculated pair of footsteps approached. There was only one person whose footsteps sounded like that.

John Sanchez. Jax, for most of the people in his circles. The big boss himself.

“Ready?” Jax asked in a calm manner. It didn’t sound like the question was meant for Steve, and Doug’s answer confirmed it soon.

“On and running.”

“Very well,” Jax said, “Make it a good show.”

Then, the beating started. 

It wasn’t anything new. Blow after blow kept coming hard at him, to his ribs, to his face, slowly making the ringing in his ears louder with each one, making the world tilt around him. He’d been through this before way too many times to count. But this time, it was worse. This time, he couldn’t anticipate the punches, he couldn’t tell how or where they were going to strike next. 

Steve let his body go slack, hoping they’d think he was unconscious, but not even that stopped the kicks as he lay there on the floor, unable to fight back. He wondered if this was all today would bring. A beating wasn’t too bad after all the other torture methods they’ve used before. This, he could take, he could bask in the pain of fresh bruises and lacerations. He could consider it a break before they make him kneel on the wired bottom of his cage with that damn rope threatening to strangle him again. 

Yeah, he could take it, He’d had worse days since here. 

The strikes kept coming, heavy boots landing at his battered body. Then one of the boots caught him on the back of his head, and the world became a fuzzy mess, making Steve float above all the pain and fear.

Steve had no idea how long did the beating take, how long he did his best not to think about the blue waves of the ocean washing over the little piece of beach on his backyard instead of this grimy place. 

But he knew that when they took the hood off and he saw the light again, he wished he hadn’t.

The feel of a cold muzzle pressed against the back of his neck wouldn't terrify him as much as the lens of his own phone trained on him, capturing all of this on video. The thought burned like bile up his throat and he clenched his jaw, trying not to puke, apologies to Danny racing through his blurry mind.

“Say hello to your friend, McGarrett.”

He was right. 

Today _was_ different.


	2. Chapter 2

The gentle buzz of the cell phone in his pocket made Danny jump up from the chair. He was running before he got a chance to even check the caller ID. For a second, a brief glimmer of hope coursed through him when Steve’s name showed up on the screen, but he knew better than think Steve was the one video-calling. 

No. It was the phone call he’d been expecting since this morning. A phone call that’ll show how much he’d fucked up.

Lou was already by the smart table, lifting his head up in question as Danny collided with the door of his office. “Chin, Kono!” Danny called out, lifting a phone in his hand. No more words were necessary. Lou got the silent command to turn the tracking on immediately. The phone kept ringing as his teammates emerged their offices, the knot in Danny’s stomach growing every second. A phone screen mirrored on the big one above them, a nod of Lou’s head and he was ready. Physically, at least. Because nothing… _nothing_ could ever really prepare him to see what he’d seen. 

The video played for a few minutes, four men beating another one. The one he recognized immediately, despite the black bag over his head, despite the bloodied and bruised skin. 

He wanted to rip these men apart with his bare hands. Anything to turn those bastards’ attention away from his best friend. He wanted to beat them senseless, then reach over and pull Steve into his arms, to keep him safe. But he couldn’t. He was frozen in place, unable to move, or even think. 

It kept going even after Steve went limp, falling to the floor and no longer struggling to rise. They kept kicking Steve, oblivious to the fact he wasn’t reacting even to the worst of the kicks. Danny’s breath caught in his throat, waiting, wishing for Steve to move, to get up, to live.

His throat was sore from all the shouts, from calling out to them to stop, but no one listened. 

A command to stop came just when Danny thought Steve must’ve been dead already, judging by the lack of movement. Just then the men stopped, and hauled Steve up - their grip evidently the only thing keeping him upright. 

“I thought we had a deal,” a voice called out from out of sight of the camera. “Did you really think you can outsmart me?” 

Danny’s heart began to pound faster. The deal. The one requiring Danny and the team to turn their main witness, his wife, and a five-year-old son to John Sanchez, A.K.A. Jax, in order to get Steve back. It had never been on the table, they all knew that. The family was sent away to the safe house on the mainland, and even if they were still on the island, Danny would never risk their lives. The exchange was never going to happen and Five-0 needed to strike. The problem was, Sanchez was not one, but two steps ahead. And now, Steve was the one to pay the price for their failure.

The camera turned around and Sanchez’s face showed up on the screen. “You shouldn’t have done that, Williams,” he said.

“Look, you’re right. It was a mistake. I’m sorry, all right?” All the attempts to stop his voice from trembling failed miserably. “Give me one more chance, please. I won’t mess up this time.” 

Sanchez’s lips curled into a smug grin. “I know you won’t,” he said, his tone calm. “Because if you try something again, it might be your daughter I come for next. Wouldn’t it be a pity if such a cute girl died for her daddy’s mistakes?”

“Son of a bitch!” Danny snapped, ignoring the freezing chill running down his spine with the threat to his baby girl. “Don’t you dare-”

“Enough.” Sanchez looked over his shoulder to barely conscious Steve, barely kneeling even with the support, then turned back to the camera. “I believe the next time you’ll make the right decision. But you see, I can’t leave your offense unpunished. Gotta protect my name. I’m sure you understand.”

One of the men holding Steve upright tore the hood away. Not even the sight of a gun pointed at the base of Steve’s skull was nearly as terrifying as the fear in the hazel eyes that locked onto the camera lens. 

“Say hello to your friend, McGarrett,” another man taunted.

Danny locked his knees and gripped the edge of the table to keep himself from collapsing to the ground.

_Steve. What have they done to you?_

His friend’s face was bruised and bloody, a deep gash above his eye and a split lip gaped wide and needed stitches. Danny noticed the moment Steve bit back his weakness, summoning whatever reserve strength he had left. The wild stare quickly turned defiant, despite the gun threatening to end his life.

“No,” Danny whispered, his voice wavering on just those two letters. “No, please.” He was barely breathing watching Steve’s feeble attempt to struggle while hissing insults at his captors. “Sanchez, listen to me, please. Don’t do that. I… “ 

_What? You’ll have an innocent family sent to certain death to save your best friend?_

“I’m in a good mood today, Sanchez said, moving the camera a few inches to the left, partially obliterating the view. “So I’ll give you one more chance. But that doesn’t change the fact that you need to learn a lesson for trying to outsmart me. Or should I rather say, your friend needs to learn a lesson?”

When Sanchez turned the camera back to Steve and the group of four men, Danny got a better look at what was happening. And despite the gun being gone from Steve’s head, he instantly wished he didn’t. He could feel all the color drain from his face as he watched the scene in the background with abject horror.

It was only when Steve’s boxers were yanked away, leaving him completely naked, realization dawned. Only when there was a boot on the back of Steve’s neck pinning him to the floor, and his naked ass forced up in the air, Danny realized what the price for his failure was. 

_No. No, no, no!_

A hard knot formed in his gut and tears began to burn in the back of his eyes. “Stop,” he pleaded, even knowing Sanchez wouldn’t listen. “Please, don’t do that.”

But Sanchez didn’t answer and the camera remained trained on Steve, trashing desperately to postpone the inevitable. Bound, overpowered, and with most of his strength gone, Steve never stood a chance as a man behind him kicked his legs apart. 

“This is on you, Williams. Live and learn, I guess. Take this as the last warning,” Sanchez’s voice came eventually. 

Bile rose in his throat. “Wait, pl-”

“Same deal. Same place.” Sanchez’s face showed up on the screen again, fully obliterating the view of the most painful scene Danny had ever seen. “You’ve got five hours.”

_No!_

A video cut off on a loud scream that chilled him to the bone. A scream born of a concoction of pain, anger, fear, and despair. A scream that will haunt Danny in his dreams for the rest of his life.

* * *

Soon Steve found himself in a place where he wasn’t even sure the pain was real or if it was happening in some far universe. He was so sure he was going to die because he could feel it inside his chest. It was a different kind of weakness that he had never felt before.

He must have blacked out because he opened his eyes to find himself drenched in cold water. They used it to wake him up. He was in so much pain, still on his stomach on the dirty floor with those men laughing at him. Laughing at the sounds they got out of him, laughing at the mess they made him make, and they wouldn’t let him get up because apparently they weren’t done.

He tried to fight as soon as his mind was awake enough to do so, but all his attempts to struggle came out ridiculous. One of the men wrenched his hair, forcing him to look up. “Don’t fight it,” he said. “You’ll just make it worse.”

They kept saying that, but how could it get any worse? He tried to break free again, using his bruised feet to kick Barry, who was behind him, but the guy didn’t even wince. Instead, Barry raised Steve’s hips back into position, forcing him on his knees again, and he could feel the guy’s erection pressing into him.

His hands still tied behind his back, knees hurting from the effort, he tried not to think about what was going to happen next. Doug put a hand on the back of Steve’s head, and pushed his head to the floor. Barry stood behind him, and he winced when a hand started moving over his back and ass, going over the cuts and bruises from the beating of the previous days which were still hurting. He had to bite his lip to keep the shout buried inside when Barry’s finger shoved into his already bleeding hole.

Steve’s stomach heaved when the finger was switched with Barry’s cock. Doug was still holding him down, putting pressure on his head so he couldn’t move. Where would he go anyway?

He willed his body to try harder, to do something, but he was too far gone. All he could do was try to fight the agony as Barry started ramming his cock inside him with a punishing force once again and the pain was so horrible he was sure something inside him was being ripped apart. 

He closed his eyes, imagining he wasn’t here, he wasn’t getting tortured and raped and likely about to die. His mind brought him back a few years, with Joe’s angry face screaming at him, making sure Steve carried out his punishment.

_“Is there a problem, McGarrett?”_

If Joe meant other than trembling like a leaf and barely holding himself up after hours in a plank position while everybody else was sound asleep, then there wasn’t one.

_“No, Sir.”_

_“I can see it in your eyes. You think it’s not fair, right? It wasn’t you who failed. But you did. Because it’s you who is responsible for your men’s mistakes.”_

_“Yes, Sir.”_

_“How long left?”_

_“Forty-two minutes, Sir.”_

_“Make it an hour.”_

How he had to bite his tongue to prevent saying something that would just make things worse. He hated Joe at that moment for adding up more strain on him when he was almost at the breaking point already, when he thought he couldn’t last another minute, let alone an hour.

_“It’s just a few more minutes, so suck it up, McGarrett!”_

Joe’s tiny hint of a proud smile after Steve collapsed on the floor after he was done was bouncing in his head as an arm was wrapped around his waist and he was yanked back and slammed against Barry’s cock, the agony ripping through his insides.

_Just a few more minutes,_ he kept telling himself. _Suck it up._

But it wasn’t a few minutes. More like an eternity and when Barry was done, someone else gladly took his place, ignoring the warm blood Steve could feel running down his thighs. He just kept thrusting, again and again, and Steve wondered if it’d take forever. If this was how he was going to die after all.

Eventually, the man stopped and Steve breathed, relieved to get a break from thrusting even though it was still painful to have him lodged inside him. “Maybe we can ask Jax to let us keep you as our little whore for a bit longer. How would you like that?” the guy said, much to others amusement. “I think a little cock-slut like you would love to stay around.”

He tried his best not to think of all the horrible things going through his mind that he was afraid they might do. Because unless they killed him, this surely wasn’t all they’d do. The sudden fear of knowing they were going to hurt him in some irreparable way terrified him. 

He tried to tell his body he’d get through this, tried to think he was going to be fine, that he’d feel the warm breeze and salty air in his face, that he’d see his little piece of beach again. That he’d see Danny again. 

_Danny._

A knot in his stomach grew. It wasn’t the pain that was the worst. Not even the complete loss of control or humiliation. It was knowing Danny knew what they’ve done to him. What they were still doing. And who knows how much they’ve made him see. The fear of Danny knowing he was this dirty, inside and out, didn’t leave him for a second.

_Suck it up, McGarrett._

Barry and the others just got harsher and more depraved, as they took turns raping him and the pain hit him with full force again. He kept hoping his body would be able to live through this, frightened of what was still left to come. Hoping it’d be over soon. But they just switched and laughed and had their way until he was waiting for them to do something so bad he would die. 

At this point, staying alive became his main goal. The only goal.

The problem was, when the man between his legs started thrusting again and another one’s cock appeared in his face along with a knife to keep his mouth open, Steve couldn’t tell life from death.


	3. Chapter 3

Ten minutes after the deadline. And Danny had _nothing._

Not even the slightest idea where Steve was, or how to get him back. No way to buy more time to figure out a plan. Nothing but the sound of a desperate cry and image of fear in Steve’s eyes playing over and over again in his head.

When his phone rang, he took a deep breath before answering it, this time in the privacy of his office, terrified of what he might see on the other side of the screen and refusing the others to see that too. It was bad enough the first time already, and the least he could do for Steve now was not to share his weakness with the rest of the team.

And he was glad he did that because what he saw, broke his heart in a way he could never anticipate.

No one spoke at the beginning, just like the first time. But this time, the live feed flipped Danny’s stomach right away in the first second and he had to resist the urge to puke. For a minute or so, he tried to call out to those bastards, to beg them to stop hurting his best friend, but no one gave a shit about his pleas and threats.

He wished he didn’t see what those men did to Steve, didn’t hear the grunts and panting, the slapping sound of flesh on flesh. But worse than the sounds of pleasure were the muffled cries of pain Danny heard from Steve and the fight completely gone from him. Those men were taking great pleasure in the pain they caused him. Danny’s soul screamed at him to do something to stop this. To reach through the screen and break those men’s necks and take Steve somewhere far, far away, where he’d be safe and never hurt again, never touched again like that. 

More pleas to stop went unanswered and the video just kept going, shredding Danny’s soul to tiny bits, making him wonder if he would ever be able to piece them back together. 

Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, there was silence and Steve lay on the floor, completely still but the slightest move of his chest proving he was still alive. He was covered in blood and-

“I think I was clear enough when I said you’ve got five hours,” Sanchez’s voice came from somewhere, leaving the camera trained on Steve. “It’s well past the deadline and I just got information the people I look for have never been on the island. You’ve never intended to bring them in, have you, Williams?”

Danny’s breath caught in his throat. What was he supposed to say? Nothing would make a difference and Sanchez would pick up on his lies and attempt to buy more time to find out where they were keeping Steve. “Listen, I… I just need more time, all right?” he croaked, hoping for a miracle. “I’m working on it, but-”

“I don’t believe you,” Sanchez cut him off. “It seems if I want something done right, I gotta do it myself. And believe me, when I’ll find them myself, I’ll make their death way worse. I’ll make them suffer before I kill them. Just like your friend. I’m done playing games.”

His heart skipped a beat as two goons lifted Steve’s slack body and hauled him up on his knees. Without their grip, Steve would surely slump back to the ground. Steve blinked sluggishly in the dim light, blood trickling down the side of his face, and his head seemed too heavy for his neck.

And then the fear that Steve couldn’t hide from Danny washed over both of them as a gun was pressed against his skull for the second time today, leaving Danny wanting to lean forward and empty his stomach. 

“No, please.” Tears burning in the back of his eyes threatened to fall. “Please,” he croaked, his voice at the point of breaking.

The fear in Steve’s eyes was there only for a brief moment before he masked it with defiance. He leaned forward as much as he could and spat blood at one of the men, earning himself a hard slap across the face. 

But even that didn’t change Sanchez’s calm manner. “His blood is on your hands,” he said to Danny, completely ignoring Steve. 

_No, no, no. Please, no!_

Danny couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t look away, knowing what was coming. Steve knew it too, if the way his eyes locked with Danny’s was any indication.

He only had half a second to brace himself before a sharp retort of the gun echoed through the room. He was briefly aware of the scream of agony that tore from his throat and the way he flinched away as blood sprayed across the screen, obliterating the view. His whole field of vision turned red and Danny could only hear the sound of Steve’s body hitting the floor, followed by laughter and a quiet, amused, “He’s dead.” 

Then the screen went dark.

* * *

Steve woke up with his head throbbing like never before. He blinked, awareness slowly creeping back into his sluggish mind. Nothing but darkness surrounded him. Darkness and pain. His whole body was in pure agony, inside and out.

And then he remembered.

Dead men shouldn’t feel pain. 

But he did.

It was the most startling realization Steve had ever made - that he was alive instead of a corpse in whatever hellhole his captors should have left him in. It just didn’t make any sense. He’d known from the moment he’d seen the lens of his phone camera that he was a dead man. The beating and rape and everything else leading up to it wasn’t necessary, Steve had thought, but hadn’t had much time to muse on it before the entire left side of his face had exploded in agony and he’d let the darkness claim him, thinking it was his end.

Steve didn’t know much at this moment, his ears were ringing and his whole world was spinning, but he knew one thing. Danny was on the other side of that video feed. Steve had heard his desperate calls and pleas and wanted so badly to tell him it was okay, but didn’t have enough strength. And what was worse, now he thought Steve was dead. 

Why wasn’t he dead?

His thoughts kept coming and going, not sticking around for long enough to make any sense. There was something important he needed to figure out, but he just couldn’t focus.

As the world spun around him and his vision darkened, he let the consciousness slip away from him.

When he woke up again, he was still bound and surrounded by nothing by darkness, but blissfully alone. He tried to ignore the waves of agony that all seemed to stem out from the side of his head, to ignore the broken fingers and ribs, to pretend that the bruises and cuts all over his body weren’t throbbing, to pretend his insides weren’t on fire, to lie as still as possible to keep the burns scraping across the dirty floor. 

Most of all, he tried not to think about the reason why they kept him alive. About what was going to happen next. Because he was sure he couldn’t handle another session like the one before he’d been shot. 

The world kept swimming in the darkness and pain, and he was floating. Floating in the void, free of gravity, each wave a gentle caress as the wind ushered them gently towards the shore. He rose and fell with rhythmic ease as he gently waded through the salty waves of the endless blue. The ocean held him in its embrace, calm and strong, until the footsteps echoed in his head, tearing him away from his happy place.

His heart began slamming against his ribs faster, making him realize he wasn’t in his cage. Why wasn’t he in the cage? The cage was good. Safe. They didn’t hurt him in the cage.

He wondered when did he become a person who was glad to be locked in a tiny cage. He would’ve fought against it, before. He closed his eyes. He had fought. He’d fought every way he knew how, but it didn’t matter. 

It hadn’t made a difference as they’d tugged on the nylon rope on his neck and forced him on his knees. It hadn’t made a difference as they’d cut his air off when drowning him on the dry land. It hadn’t made a difference as belts and leather whip had cut the skin on his back and ass open. It hadn’t made a difference when they’d used him as a human ashtray. It hadn’t made a difference as they’d picked the most painful spots to electrocute. It hadn’t made a difference as they’d beaten him half to death. It hadn’t made a difference as they’d forced his naked ass up and fucked him into the oblivion. 

_“Come on, Steve. If you give up now, we’ll never make it.”_

Tears burned in the back of his eyes. 

_“My feet hurt, dad. I want to go home.”_

Whose idea was it to go camping that far, anyway? That place his father wanted to go was miles away, up the steep hill. There was plenty of good camping spots that were easier to get to. 

_“Come on, keep going!”_

He opened his eyes and smiled, remembering his father’s proud face when they’ve made it to their destination right before the breathtaking sunset over the island. 

“Come on,” he whispered into the darkness. “Keep going.” 

_One foot in front of the other, all the way to the end._

He wanted to, he really did. But when the key turned in the lock and the door opened, his chest tightened with terror, completely paralyzing him in the anticipation of what was about to come.


	4. Chapter 4

After they raped him countless times, they tied him to the table and stuck electrodes in his body and shocked him. They tipped his head backward and poured water on his nose and mouth through the dirty rag, making him drown to the point he believed it was his end. They used a kettle prod to wrench a scream out of him. And then they raped him again and again, until his consciousness slipped away and brought a sweet respite for a moment before they woke him up again. 

When they were done with him, Barry and one of the other men gladly helped him to the bathroom, to wash away the blood and cum off his skin, and then use his clean body as an excuse to rape him again, making even such a luxury as shower a hell on Earth. But that was exactly why they cleaned the filth off him, didn’t they? Certainly not for his benefit, he was sure of that.

After they left him, hurt, weak, and bound, Steve couldn’t get up. He was physically unable to move his body. It was impossible and he was in so much pain that even breathing hurt, let alone moving. The side of his head kept exploding in agony, sending him to the brink of darkness quite often, reminding him a similar close call with Wo Fat not so long ago. 

But the physical pain wasn’t the worst part. It was that other torture, the one that his captors seemed to have triggered inside his brain, that was driving him to the point of desperation.

They came back later on, just to put him through all that again, and this time, he only briefly remembered the needle in his arm, the growing panic, the syringe coming closer and closer, and how he’d tried to twist away even though it didn’t matter. It never mattered. Never made a difference. 

And then he felt a strange sort of detachment, an out of body experience where he knew he possessed this body but wasn’t sure if he was the one moving it around. He couldn’t catch his thoughts. They were there, floating just outside of reach. He reached for them and missed every time. And when they left and the drugs started wearing off and the pain started forcing its cruel agony over him again, everything came into focus. The knowledge of what those men had done to him had become a torture on its own and he had never felt this humiliated, alone, and this helpless. 

There was nothing but pain, in his body and mind, and it never seemed to go away for a second. They kept saying this was his life now, that he was their whore for however long they wished, and he couldn’t understand how did that even happen to him. How a man like him, an ex-Navy SEAL, became no more than someone else’s toy. A thing to be used and abused. The hurt of being reduced to that messed with his head. 

And when the torture and rape continued the next day, and the day after that, he almost started to believe them. He couldn’t take his mind off it, thinking about a very real possibility he would never make it out of here. Not in one piece. 

_They won’t break you. Your soul is unbreakable._

With every passing minute, it was harder to think that way. To believe his mind was strong enough to get him through this.

_If you give up now, you’ll never make it._

His father’s voice kept bouncing in his skull, telling him to keep going, to not give up. But he couldn’t stop feeling like his body won’t survive another round of this, and he didn’t want to die that way. He felt a sadness that was unlike any sadness he had ever felt, unlike any heartache he had ever experienced. It was breaking him from the inside, eating away at him, torturing him and he needed to not feel it. 

He wanted to survive this, to see the ocean again, to hear Danny’s voice at least one more time. To go home. But this hell was all he had. The small cage in a dank cell and the relentless torture from his captors was his world and to top it all off he constant pain that plagued his body and mind.

As he lay there in the cage, the pain began to intensify slowly for no apparent reason. He knew the feeling. He realized he must’ve been drugged again and whatever it was they injected him started wearing off. The fuzzy memories of what they’ve done to him during the last few hours began to creep into his mind, making him nauseous. 

Some of them, like Doug, preferred him drugged, dazed, and compliant, but others, especially Barry, liked him lucid, liked to see the pain in his eyes when they forced him to do whatever they wanted despite his feeble resistance, they liked to wrench a scream out of him, to hurt his mind as well as body. There was one positive about being drugged, though. He couldn’t understand the source of the pain and it was better that way. But when his mind started to clear up again and memories flooded back, he wanted to puke, to scream his voice out. Just like now.

He felt sick to his stomach when he remembered hands moving over his ass and the shame of being forced to kneel stark naked in front of the men he loathed. And then the fingers became more focused until they were treading over his hole. 

“Open up, whore,” someone ordered at the same time, gently slapping his cheek, and Steve realized there was an erect cock in front of his face just as those fingers invaded him, making him clench his jaw. “Come on, don’t make me wait. Open your mouth.”

He did.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he forced the images away, wanting to be somewhere else, wanting this to be a nightmare that he’d wake up from. 

_Don’t think about it. Don’t let them break you._

Dwelling on what they’ve done to him wasn’t good for anything. He could think about it later, but he needed to focus on getting out of here alive first. He knew without a doubt that he was alone in this, and he had to manufacture his escape somehow. Because as much as he knew Danny would’ve walked Earth and moved mountains if it would’ve helped him to find his best friend, Danny thought he was dead.

The knot in his stomach grew with the thought. His best friend was suffering his own agony that Steve didn’t even want to imagine having to worry about. No, he got it easier out here taking the physical torture. He knew Danny was safe and sound, would go home to his kids every night and probably die an old, grumpy man.

It was Danny who had the hard job, having to survive and - knowing Danny - probably blaming himself for all that’d happened. For the death, that bastard Jax had faked to stop Danny and Five-0 from looking for Steve. 

So Danny wasn’t coming. Not this time.

Which meant Steve had to find his own way out. Sooner, rather than later. Because he wasn’t sure his body could take this much longer before giving up.

He had no concept of the passage of time other than the sporadic bottles of water and scraps of food, and nearly constant torture. He’d stopped fighting, even when not drugged. He let them do whatever they wanted, let them think they’ve broken him. 

_Pick your battles. Bide your time. Conserve energy._

His time would come. He just hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

When the door opened, Steve didn’t even bother to lift his head to see who was it this time. 

_Just pretend you don’t care. Don’t let them see you’re afraid._

The familiar sound of footsteps gave the man away as he walked toward Steve’s cage. His chest tightened. Every time Jax himself came here, it was worse than the other times. These men liked to put on a good show for their boss. “Good. You’re awake,” Jax said. 

Steve blinked and focused on Jax’s face. He looked pleased. More than usually.

“You’ve just earned me a lot of money, McGarrett,” Jax announced, staring at him with a satisfied grin.

He shuddered, afraid to even think about what Jax meant by that. “W-what are you talking about?” he croaked, grimacing in pain as he spoke. 

The pained sounds widened Jax’s smile even more. “The word got out about you being my guest and well, it turned out you’ve got a lot of enemies. Some of them willing to pay unimaginable money to get their hands on you.”

Steve froze, doing his best to remain stoic on the outside. 

“I didn’t plan to sell you off. You’re too much fun to keep around. But one lady made an offer which I couldn’t refuse,” Jax continued. “Her name’s Daiyu Mei. Does it ring a bell?”

Maybe it was the drugs, but he couldn’t remember anyone with such a name. A confused frown must’ve been enough of an answer because Jax didn’t wait for more confirmation.

“I thought so,” Jax said. “She said you would be familiar with her husband, though. Wo Fat.”

A chill ran down his spine with the mention of his worst enemy, and judging by the look in Jax’s eyes, Steve’s attempt not to show any reaction failed miserably. 

Jax straightened himself up and nodded at Doug, Barry, and two men whose names Steve still didn’t know, then he turned back to him and held his gaze. “So my boys would like to say goodbye to their toy before I’ll send you off to a new home. I hope you don’t mind.” 

As he watched his tormentors approaching closer, he knew this final session would be worse than ever before. But it wasn’t that what scared him the most. It was the thought of a woman he didn’t even know. Because if she was anything like her husband, she would make the days in Jax’s captivity look like a vacation in Hilton. And he realized, that unless he found his way out before she got her hands on him, he was a dead man. 

This time indefinitely and for real.


	5. Chapter 5

Danny had never felt so completely lost and utterly alone in this world despite all the people around him. 

Kono, Chin and Lou now walked around eggshells around him. They had done so ever since the damned two videos came into his phone, obliterating his world around him and hardening him into a shell of a man he’d once been. 

Some days he didn’t even know why he even bothered to come to work anymore. 

_Revenge._

Right. To avenge Steve. To find the men responsible for his best friend’s pain and death and rip them apart with his bare hands.

_John Sanchez. Douglas Hughes. Barry Cox. Daniel Adams. Paul Lopez._

He’d been repeating those names in his head ever since he’d linked the faces with the names. The names of the men he would make to pay even if it was the last thing he’d do in this world. 

Alone in his office, he kept avoiding the calls and texts from a funeral director for the past few days. It had been nine days since the most heartbreaking live show ever. But there was no body to bury anyway. Steve was probably dumped somewhere no one would ever find him, so why bother? Why hurry? So what it should have been done by now? Why everybody wanted him to perfect the details of the stupid ceremony with an empty casket? 

He couldn’t care less. 

Danny kept a tight reign of control on the emotions that threatened to bubble to the surface again, the images of years with Steve dancing in his memories. 

Steve in the garage of his father’s house, aiming a gun at him, so stubborn and cocky. 

Steve dressed in his dress blues showing up on the most important court of Danny’s life. 

Steve helping Grace with training to get the President’s Physical Fitness medal. 

Steve building a sandcastle with Charlie on the small piece of beach on his backyard, while all the ohana was enjoying the burgers he’d made.

Steve saying ‘I love you’ to him for the first time when things didn’t look good after a building had collapsed on them. 

Steve on his knees in a hellhole who-knows-where, all bloody, naked and-

_No._

Danny clamped down the memories, unwilling to go back to what had happened hours before Steve’s death. 

It was past seven a.m. and Danny had been watching Steve’s last moments alive since… he couldn’t even remember when. He blinked away tears when a gunshot echoed through the room. Even knowing it was coming, he startled from reliving the scene on the video again for what must’ve been a hundredth time at least. 

Danny had assigned every analyst available to pour over the video for any hint that Steve was alive, that this video was some kind of a trick. They came back to him with some information, but none of it good.

It hadn’t been edited nor pre-recorded and Steve was certainly the victim in the video. There were no further leads as to where Sanchez’s real compound was. 

He got the names of each and every person from that damn video, but they were like ghosts, vanished, lurking somewhere around, unseen, untouchable. Steve had died and there was nothing Danny could do to avenge him. 

Yet. 

So Danny had ordered the video scrubbed from the archives and downloaded it to his personal laptop. He wouldn’t leave his best friend’s last moments of agony and fear for anyone else to find.

This was all his fault. _He_ had been the one who decided it was a good idea to send their witness and his family away and attack Sanchez’s compound instead. _He_ had been the one who didn’t come up with a backup plan quickly enough when things had gone south. 

Danny downed a bottle of Longboard he’d found in Steve’s fridge and hit ‘play’ again. He didn’t need the video to relive his best friend’s last moments, but he’d go home tonight and play it again anyw-

The door to his office opened and made him lift his gaze up from the screen. 

_What?_ He wanted to ask Kono, who was standing in the doorway, but she was faster. “We found Sanchez’s compound,” she announced.

A new memory filled his brain with the words.

_“If you try something again, it might be your daughter I come for next. Wouldn’t it be a pity if such a cute girl died for her daddy’s mistakes?”_

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, the threat racing through his mind. Last time he’d decided to make a hit on Sanchez’s hideout and get Steve back his way, it cost him more than he was able to ever imagine. Life of his best friend. His brother. What if it was a trap again? What if Sanchez wouldn’t be there again? What if-

“Danny?” Kono’s voice was soft and filled with a concern. “I know it won’t bring Steve back, but we can’t let such a man roaming the world.”

Oh, hell no. He didn’t mean to let Sanchez and any of his men of do that. Not if he got a chance to get his hands on the bastards. So many times he’d imagined all the possible ways he could kill them all. A bullet in their heads - the same courtesy they had showed Steve, hands around their throats and many more. Kono was right. None of those… none… would bring Steve back. Nothing would. But he’d tear the world apart to make them pay anyway.

“Danny?”

He opened his eyes. He had to stop zoning out like that while around the team. Stop everyone walking around him afraid to utter a word in case he’d fall apart with the slightest mention of the day they’ve lost their friend, their leader, their mentor. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, meeting Kono’s compassionate gaze. 

It was impossible to miss the real question behind his words. _Did you find him for real this time? Will we get him for real or just piss him off even more and give him an excuse to come after the rest of our family?_

A slow nod was the answer. “I’m sure.”

“What about our witness?” 

“He and his family had been moved to a new safe house,” Kono said. “Chin made sure they won’t let any of us know where to find them.”

Danny scoffed. _If you don’t know where to find someone, no one can use it against you,_ right? What a bullshit. And also a little bit too late for that. Too late for Steve. But as long as Sanchez was out there, an innocent family would be in danger and Steve had died for nothing. So even revenge set aside, there was still a reason to get the job done.

“Then what are we waiting for?” he said, wishing it sounded less broken than he felt. “Let’s get that son of a bitch.”

* * *

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Steve wasn’t sure when the torture finally stopped. He could feel nothing but the searing pain all over his body, inside and out. The blood on his bruised skin mixed with sweat and cum, and his mind was floating in the void. 

He wasn’t lucky enough to be drugged this last time. Not that he’d expected such kindness anyway. No. They made sure he remembered every single thing, every name he’d been called, every scream they’d made him make, every awful touch that had made him shudder, every punch and kick he’d received for not putting on a good enough show for the bastards, for not fighting back when they wanted him to.

He squeezed his eyes closed, sucked in a breath that set every inch of bone and skin and muscle in his body screaming. With the breath there came a haunting image of satisfaction on Jax’s face as he’d stood there and watched his men have their way with Steve. No. Not men. Jax’s people weren’t people at all. They were monsters. And the bastard had let those monsters loose on him, let them… let them…

_Don’t think about it. Just don’t._

Hard not to, though, when his body was so insistently reminding him of all he’d been through. He just couldn’t stop lurking in the dangerous waters of going back to what had happened.

_“Scream for me, bitch. It always make me horny.”_

Not like he’d had any choice. They’ve done things he didn’t want to ever think about, just to wrench those screams out of him. And he hated himself for giving them that satisfaction over and over again. 

No matter how hard he tried, his brain just wouldn’t shut and the horrors of the past few hours kept flooding him. He remembered the smell of his own blood and the feeling of it running down his thighs. He remembered the baseball bat making contact with his battered body. He remembered his desperate hope they wouldn’t use it in some more creative way, and the agony and more blood when they did.

He willed his mind not to go there, not to remember the details of a very big thing being pushed into a very small space. He tried not to remember he’d thought he was going to die for sure, because how could anything hurt like that and not kill you? 

A violent shiver ripped a moan from his throat. The cold floor was hard and chilly against his battered body, half brutally cruel, half icy relief. He could barely move through the agony he was in. Best he could manage was roll onto the side, take some pressure off his ass and back, where those monsters had done the most damage. 

His eyes drifted close again. His body craved sleep, needed sleep. But he lurched his eyes open when he felt a kick of the boot on his back. Doug and Barry stood over him, looking quite amused. He didn’t even hear them coming. Or were they here the whole time? 

It didn’t matter. Because they said it was time to go and he knew this was over. He also knew that if he didn’t get a chance to escape today, then he might not get it at all. But starved, beaten, and weakened to this point, with his hands bound behind his back once again, his chances weren’t great even if there was a perfect opportunity.

He was having trouble standing on his feet as his tormentors yanked him up. He faltered a few times, and their hold was the only thing keeping him upright. They led him outside and for the first time, Steve got a chance to see what the building was like outside of the dark, smelly cell that had been his home for who knows how long. The cracked walls and old, flickering lights were soon replaced by something he’d thought he’d never see again. 

The sky.

The fresh air and warm rays of the sun on his naked skin made all the misery fade just a little bit. There wasn’t a single cloud on the blue sky, and it all seemed almost too perfect to be real. Not even the fact the sunlight was hurting his eyes, now accustomed to the ever-present darkness, could stop him from feeling a little less like a thing, and more like a human being. 

It gave him a glimmer of hope. It reminded him how hope felt like. Like happiness, almost. And it was powerful enough to make him decide today was different. Today was the day he’d either escape or die trying. Because he was certain there would be no better opportunity and if Wo Fat’s wife got to him, it would probably be worse than death. Because she wouldn’t pay a fortune to Jax to have a nice chat with Steve over a cup of coffee.

Determined to give it a go, considering his options as they dumped him into a white van, he willed his body to be strong enough, to use all the energy he’d tried to conserve by not fighting back, to keep him up for long enough to make this work. 

And just when he thought they’ve let the guard down a little and he got ready to strike and give it his all, gunshots echoed from somewhere inside the building. 

It was a distraction Steve wanted to use in his advantage, but didn’t act quickly enough before Doug shut the door from the inside, shouting at the driver in the front to go, and Barry’s eyes didn’t leave Steve for a second. Maybe their surprise didn’t take long enough for him to act. But considering a shape he was in, the problem most likely wasn’t that, but his reaction time. It would be near impossible to pull this off in his state, but such a word have never belonged to his vocabulary. 

The muffled sounds of gunshots kept coming from the distance even as the vehicle sped off the driveway, leaving Steve wondering if there was any chance it was Five-0, although a bit late. A question that was answered soon enough.

“Shit,” Barry swore, still keeping an eye on Steve from the safe distance, ruining all Steve’s hope for an opportunity to strike. “How did they find us?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Doug barked. “Jax will handle it. Focus on our task unless you want him to offer the two of us as a toy for others if we fuck it up. I don't want to take McGarrett's place.” 

Barry scoffed and before Steve knew it, the man’s boot landed on his throbbing side, making the pain erupt in his whole body. “Fuck what up?” Barry said with a smug grin on his face. “Our little whore will be a good boy. I doubt he can even stand up. We’re good.”

 _We’ll see about that,_ Steve thought, trying to breathe slowly around his surely broken ribs. Maybe Barry was right, maybe not. But there was only one way to find out. Gathering all the remaining bits of strength, he waited for his moment. Because it would come. Steve was sure of that.

Today was different. Again. Because today he’d be free. One way or another.


	6. Chapter 6

_~~Daniel Adams~~_

_~~Paul Lopez~~ _

_John Sanchez_

_Douglas Hughes_

_Barry Cox_

The names keeping Danny awake at night were reduced from five down to three. Because the other bastards weren’t here.

The compound wasn’t entirely empty, not this time. But Sanchez still got away. They had eyes on him and he got away. But at least two of the people on Danny’s list were now handcuffed out in the corridor with Chin and Lou guarding them. Handcuffed and bloodied. It took both, Lou and Chin, to tear Danny away from the bastards, but his colleagues didn’t manage to do so before he got some of his anger out. Not before beating the hell out of those scumbags, to the point his knuckles were bloody. But when Danny’s fingers squeezed Lopez’s throat, Chin and Lou forced him to stop, to his great frustration. He wanted them to suffer for what they’ve done to his best friend. And let them rot in prison seemed way too kind. But after all, so did killing them. There was no punishment Danny would find appropriate. Especially not after he had seen the room he was standing in now. 

Danny stared at the damp and smelly room in front of him with tears burning in the back of his eyes. There was no doubt this place was where all of it had happened. The videos weren’t necessary to come to the conclusion this was where Steve had been held. One look at the variety of torture instruments, along with a tiny cage with a pulley system right above it, was enough even for an untrained eye. Not to mention blood all over the place. Blood Danny was certain would match Steve’s. His stomach turned upside down with the image. 

But there was something worse than knowing the conditions Steve had been kept in. The fact that Steve… wasn’t here.

It was silly, but until now, some tiny part of Danny still believed, hoped that maybe they were wrong, that maybe his best friend was still alive. Still here. It wasn’t healthy, but despite seeing Steve’s death with his own eyes, no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it, Danny was in a lot of denial. But his last hope had died out with the last empty room they’d searched. 

The loss he’d been trying to block out so hard suddenly came crashing at him and the realization gnawed at him in full force, tearing his heart into a thousand shreds.

_Steve was dead._

He wouldn’t hear his voice again, wouldn’t see his smile. There would be no more arguments about driving his car, no more annoying conversations over nothing important, no more friendly banter, no more evenings on the beach watching sunsets together. None of that. 

“Danny?” Kono’s compassionate voice brought him back from his reverie. Her hand squeezed his shoulder lightly. “Let’s go.” 

But he remained glued to the spot, staring at the last spot his eyes landed on - a dried puddle of blood, bigger than most of the others, and bloodied baseball bat on the floor right next to it. The tears found their way down his cheeks, he couldn’t help it anymore, having a pretty clear picture of what Steve must have been through before… before those monsters had murdered him in cold blood.

His partner really was dead, wasn’t he? And judging by the evidence all over this place, he had suffered so much that a bullet in his head must’ve been a desired respite. 

Tears blurred his vision as all kinds of terrifying images crossed his mind, the possible scenarios which might have happened here, none of them nice. He could see Steve on his knees, naked and bloodied, wishing for the suffering to end. He could see hear Steve’s screams escaping his throat despite the best effort to keep it in. He could feel Steve’s fear, the desperation, the helplessness as those monsters had-

_No._

He pushed those images away, stored them in the back of his mind for later. Because he’d never get it out of his head anyway.

“Danny?” Kono repeated in a soft voice. 

“I let this happen to him,” he croaked, his breaking voice catching in his throat. 

He could see Kono’s mouth moving, but the words coming out of her mouth didn’t make any sense anymore. It was just a background noise and Danny’s brain was unable to process it, to process anything but the room in front of him and the fact Steve really was gone. 

The anger he felt dissipated slowly and got overwhelmed by grief. Grief he was supposed to feel since the day it had happened, but refused to do so and now it was even worse, stealing his breath, making him dizzy and his knees wobbly, threatening to give out on him. It was like a knife through the heart all over again, just like when that live video had ended a couple of days ago. 

He wiped the tears away with the back of his hand, trying to get a grip of his emotions, to focus, to-

Kono’s firm hand snaked around his neck and pulled him into a tight embrace. And he let himself go, new tears wetting his cheek as her hand moved up and down on his back in a soothing movement. 

When she pulled away, there was wetness in her eyes Danny barely noticed through the haze of his own pain. The pain so physical it was crushing his chest. 

Danny took a moment to get a hold of himself, struggling to do so. “I want them to pay,” he said after a while, repeating the five names of the men responsible in his head. 

“We’ll get every single one of them,” Kono said. 

It sounded like a promise. And with or without the help of his team mates, he wouldn’t rest until those men were either dead or behind the bars. It was a weak consolation for such a great loss, but it was the best he could do for his friend.

That and giving him what he’d deserved - paying him the last respects, letting his friends and family say one last goodbye, with or without the body. There was no point postponing it. Not anymore.

* * *

All those times Steve was holding back weren’t for nothing, because obviously it made his captors think he was far enough gone to fight back and drop their guard during the ride. When it stopped on the side of a road, and Doug disappeared to take a piss, leaving Steve only with the driver behind a wheel and Barry in the back with him, he struck. 

Barry, the biggest monster of them all, was the first to fall under Steve’s onslaught. The bastard who’d done all those terrible things to him, who’d laughed when raping him over and over again, who’d made his suffering far, far worse than Steve could ever imagine, never saw Steve’s attack coming. Even with his hands bound, and body barely functioning, the adrenaline, the rage and a vision of freedom kept Steve going and he used his head, shoulder and knees to bring the man to the ground, where he choked the life out of him using his legs. 

He made quick work of the man and managed to find a knife in Barry’s trousers and cut off the ropes around his wrists. For the first time in ages Steve’s arms were free but instead of the relief all he felt was a shocking discomfort of recirculating blood. It took him a while to get his hands to work again. 

But it wasn’t nearly as bad as standing up. As it showed up, Barry had been right, and getting on his feet was an agonizing and difficult task. He breathed deeply through his nose, pushing past the weakness and pain that threatened to send him back down into a crumpled heap. He couldn’t stop now. 

_Worry about the pain later,_ he commanded, prioritizing the needs and distractions his body was trying to paralyze him with. 

_Gun._

_Knife._

_Pants._

The trousers he took off Barry were too big on him, but any piece of cloth was better than being naked, exposed and… vulnerable. Although now he was finally wearing something, it felt almost odd after all that time in hell where he didn’t need clothes anyway. That way it was much easier for those monsters to-

_Stop thinking about it now. Focus. Keep going._

His head pounded, synced with every other hurt he’d endured over the past days, weeks… months? He wasn’t entirely sure how long it had been nor where he was. But those could be examined later, on his way home.

Doug didn’t have a chance to react as the door of the van opened. The .38 was already aimed in that direction and two bullets Steve had fired into the monster’s chest made his death a quick process. The same went for a driver Steve didn’t know as he came rushing into the back to examine the situation. 

It didn’t take more than a minute or two to get rid of his captors, yet Steve felt it took all of his remaining sources of energy. He faltered out of the van, adrenaline dissipating his veins, and hit the ground with a thud. He willed his body to stand up and move, to hang on a bit longer, but the task seemed more and more impossible every second. 

He lay there, breathing and not doing much else for a while. He wasn’t even sure he was alive, because something inside him felt just dead. But he knew he had to keep moving now he’d made it so far. He pushed himself up with a pained grunt and staggered a few steps forward to the road, briefly aware of ache low in his gut, churning and throbbing. 

Wondering what to do next, he dismissed the option to drive. He wouldn’t be able to even sit straight, let alone focus on the road. But with no idea where was he, and in his condition, walking wasn’t an option either.

_Phone._

Pushing past the pain and exhaustion threatening to consume him, he was about to head back into the vehicle, where he was sure he’d find one, when he noticed a car rushing toward him and decided to change his plan. 

As fast as he could, he moved into the middle of the road, lifting his shaking hand as a gesture to stop it from moving further. A sound of tyres screeching on the asphalt echoed in his throbbing head, and he noticed a young brunette, clutching onto the wheel with both her hands, a wild expression on her face, as the car stopped just inches away from him. 

Steve hunched over with his hands on the hood, and allowed himself to slide down onto the ground slowly, all strength now gone from his legs. He could feel the weakness setting in, winning the fight, but he was so close now, he just needed a little bit longer. 

And soon, there was the driver, in front of him, yelling something Steve didn’t understand through ringing in his head. But then she must’ve seen him, actually seen him, his bloodied and bruised body, and Steve kind of expected her to freak out and run, but she hadn’t. She knelt there with him while she called an ambulance. 

She wanted to touch him too. Bit her lip and fingered the edges of the fresh wounds on his back, as if she couldn’t believe they were real, that this wasn’t some kind of a sick joke. He let a whimper escape his throat, and that just made her touch him more, try harder to comfort him, until he gathered the strength to beg her to stop. Looking ashamed, she just waited there, uttering comforting words. Words that kept floating around him as her voice grew more urgent, but nothing she said made sense anymore. 

Steve mustered the very last bits of energy to try and keep his eyes open. But it only took a few moments before he’d lost the battle and let his heavy eyelids fall and the darkness swallow him.


	7. Chapter 7

Danny couldn’t care less when the team got called to yet another case. He wasn’t in the mindset to function properly, let alone work. Even as simple a task as breathing was a challenge with the ache deep inside his chest. 

Sitting on his sofa and staring into the blank, replaying Steve’s last moments in his head, he almost didn’t answer the phone that had been ringing for the third time. Lou’s name flashed on the screen once again, and with a frustrated sigh, he pressed the answer button. “Lou, I-”

“I know,” Lou cut him off. “No one can blame you, man. But I bet you’d want to see this.”

Doubting Lou’s belief he’d want to know anything related to any crime right now, he asked, “See what?” 

“Our victims,” Lou said and Danny just wished this conversation was over so he could go back to projecting on the years with Steve. “Three men, and - you better sit down - two of the names might sound familiar. Barry Cox and Douglas Hughes. One strangled, another one shot, along with one whose ID we haven’t verified yet, on a road in the middle of nowhere. How about that?”

Danny felt his heart skipping a beat. Two more bastards responsible for Steve’s brutal ordeal and death were now off the list, and he felt like he should thank whoever killed those monsters, but he couldn’t help but feel a pang of anger. Because he was supposed to be the one to do that, to avenge his best friend. And someone had taken that from him.

“Danny?”

“I’m here,” he said, already standing up and reaching for the car keys. Because Lou was right. This wasn’t just any work case. This was Steve’s case. And he wanted to be there. “Text me the address, I’m on my way.”

He was about to start the engine of his Camaro when the phone rang again. This time, though, the caller ID was hidden, and Danny considered ignoring it, not in a mood to talk to anyone at all, but something gnawed at his instinct, prompting him to answer it. 

And what the person on the other side of the line had told, turned his world upside down. Because there was no way… It had to be a mistake. Or some kind of a joke. A very sick and cruel one. The call left his insides trembling and he barely managed to put the car into gear as he sped off the driveway. But it wasn’t the address Lou texted him where he headed. It was the Queen’s Medical Center, to attest to the validity of the information, however unreliable and unrealistic it was.

The ride passed in a blur as he rushed through the busy traffic, oblivious to anything but the woman’s voice announcing him of admission of a patient - Steven McGarrett. 

_His Steve._

_Alive._

_Awake._

He couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t. Because he’d been through false hope already and he wouldn’t go through it again. Yet he couldn’t help but feel a tiny spark of the damn hope that maybe… just maybe it wasn’t a dream or a joke or a misunderstanding. That maybe Steve really was alive by some miracle and he’d be all right. 

Rushing through the halls of the hospital, searching for the room he’d been directed to, Danny tried to get his racing heart rate back under control, to slow down his breathing, to-

“Detective Williams?” A pretty, middle-aged doctor, closing the door of a room he wanted to - needed to - get in, stared at him, clutching onto the paperwork in her hands. A nurse soon followed her out of the room and took her place by her side. 

Danny nodded, wanting to scream at them to move aside, to stop blocking the door, to let him see if this was real. “Yeah,” he managed to mumble instead. “It’s me.”

“I’m glad you came so fast,” she said. “We seem to have trouble calming Commander down without sedation he’s been refusing adamantly. I was hoping your presence might do the trick, given the fact he keeps repeating your name when asleep.”

Still in doubt, Danny asked, “Are you… Are you sure it’s him? That he’s Steve McGarrett?” The words came out rushed, impatient.

“One of our nurses had recognized him. She said he's here often enough to remember the face,” the doctor confirmed.

He itched to find out and see for himself, but the doctor wouldn’t let him through that door, not before she said what she obviously wanted to say. Trying hard to focus, he couldn’t stop but think about one question.

How?

How the hell could Steve be alive? He’d seen him getting shot, he’d seen-

“He’d been shot,” he barked out before he could stop himself. “Steve had been shot. To the head. I…” His voice began breaking at the scene surfacing his mind, and he tried to get it back under control. “I saw it. It can’t be Steve.”

The doctor’s explanation finally confirmed they really were talking about the same person. All the medical jargon aside, he understood Steve’s been shot, but the bullet only nicked the side of his head. Nothing critical was damaged. That was all he could take from her speech. All he needed.

_Steve was alive._

_Alive!_

Danny fought to keep his breath even, to stop the hyperventilating that had become a regular occurrence in the past few days. But this really was it. The end of his nightmare. 

“He came in unconscious and stayed that way for eight hours, so we got fluids into him, and antibiotics,” the doctor kept going. “But he ripped his IV out when he woke up and wouldn’t let the nurses put it back. He’d even attacked one of the nurses.”

He didn’t really listen to the doctor speaking anymore. His senses had narrowed into a tunnel and all he could focus on was his best friend being alive. But some information managed to penetrate his skull regardless, and even that little was enough to make his stomach heave. Evidence of violent rapes, beatings, restraints, torture of all kinds. A concussion, broken ribs and fingers, burn marks, deep cuts, and tears, water in the lungs, drugs in the bloodstream. The bastards had even whipped him, for God’s sake, and not just once. No wonder he’d freaked out when he’d woken up in a strange place with strange hands on him.

Danny had to blink back the tears forming in his eyes. He couldn’t imagine how did Steve manage to escape in such a shape, or even keep going after all of that. Even worse, how he must’ve felt, knowing no one was coming to get him. That he was all alone in this. 

“Is he… uh… is he going to be all right?” Danny croaked, locking his worry-filled gaze at the doctor. 

An assuring nod took away some of the weight of his chest. “I believe that with a proper rest, his body will recover.”

The implication wasn’t lost on Danny. “Can I see him now?” he asked. “Please. I need to see him.”

She nodded and reached for the door handle. “But be careful, he startles easily.”

Danny took a deep breath, some dark corner of his mind still not believing he’d find his best friend on the other side of that door. But there was only one way to find out. 

He followed the doctor and the nurse into the room, instantly searching for the only person he needed to see right now. One look at the man laying on the bed stole his breath away for a second or two. He stood frozen in disbelief.

Steve.

The sudden relief was so intense he wanted to cry. But still, he feared that this was all just a dream, that he’d wake up any second and Steve will be gone, that he’ll be alone and stuck in this world of darkness forever.

He couldn’t tear his gaze away from his friend. He gasped in alarm. The dressing on his head was the first thing Danny noticed. But it was his face that held Danny transfixed. Black shadows rimmed Steve’s eyes. His lips were chapped, raw and bleeding. One eye was red with broken blood vessels. Both of his cheeks were bruised, and knowing the bruises on his jaw were from fingers made bile rise in Danny’s throat. It was difficult not to wonder what damage was hidden from his sight.

Danny’s stomach churned at the sight of his failure to protect his partner. How could he let this happen? How could he fail so miserably? How could he let those monsters to-

“Danny?” 

That weak, trembling voice tore him from his thoughts back to reality. Yes, reality. 

Steve was alive.

And nothing else mattered, not right now.

* * *

A light way too bright blinded him as soon as he fluttered his eyes open.

Steve squeezed his eyes shut again, resisting the urge to groan out loud as pain split his skull with absolute agony. It made it impossible to focus, to let him remember where was he or why couldn’t he move. Worse, he felt as if he would throw up at any moment.

His stomach heaved violently, sending more pain throbbing through his head, down his spine and ribs, which then sickened him all the more. The constant seesawing between his head and stomach was enough to make him want to scream in agony. 

He wanted to bring his hand up to his head, but something was stopping him, pinning him to the bed despite his best effort. The realization sent his heart into panic mode. 

It wasn’t over, was it? He’d never made it out. Or maybe he did, but was captured again. Or maybe- The agony in his head made it impossible to figure it out, to remember how he got here. He thought it was over. That he was free. But he must’ve been wrong, because free men weren’t supposed to be restrained, weren’t supposed to be tied down to a bed. 

Maybe Jax and his men had gotten him again somehow. Maybe the young driver he remembered was working for them too. Maybe they managed to deliver him to Wo Fat’s wife, as planned. Maybe her people were the ones holding him here, because here he was, his ankles and wrists, although bandaged, pinned to the bed by soft, padded straps. Why bother with the bandages and the padding, he didn’t understand. The monsters wanted him to bleed, to hurt him in every way possible. Why change it now?

He knew it was useless, but he tugged at the straps anyway, weak and exhausted as he was. Couldn’t help it. The heart monitor he was hooked to was broadcasting his rising panic. Someone would come in soon, they’d hurt him again and he couldn’t protect himself. There was nothing he could to stop them, just like he couldn’t stop those monsters from-

The door began to open and he jerked, startled. Even the damn heart monitor betrayed his fear of what was coming this time, what kind of hell he’d be put through, how they’d make him suffer for trying to escape, for trying to end this nightmare.

But this time was different. Because besides the two women dressed as medical staff, there was a man walking into the room. The man he’d been wanting to see for what felt like forever. 

He was hallucinating. That was the only explanation. His mind must’ve snapped finally. Because wherever ‘here’ was, there was no way Danny was here. No way. 

Danny stopped after a few steps and stood there, frozen in place, without a word, his jaw slightly dropped and his gaze fixed at Steve. He wasn’t real, Steve knew that. He couldn’t be. It was just a wishful trick of his mind. Yet, he couldn’t stop himself from hoping that he might be wrong. 

“Danny?” he croaked, surprised at how hoarse and weak that word came out of his mouth. 

“Steve?” Danny asked in a hesitant whisper, as if he, too, wasn’t sure how real this was. 

Real or not, he wanted to beg him to stay, to not leave ever again, to help his mind stay detached from the reality, from what was happening to his body, from what was about to come. 

As Danny walked up closer, Steve drank in the exhausted lines of his face, the shadows under his eyes, the sadness in those blues, and couldn’t help it but feel like maybe this wasn’t a trick of his own, fucked up mind, that maybe this really was his best friend in flesh. That maybe he’d come to get him out of this hell, to save him from the never-ending nightmare he was living in. 

He tugged at the restraints again, sat up as much as he could. He fell back, exhausted, just a moment later. 

Danny’s bewildered gaze shifted from his eyes to his wrists and immediately to the woman who looked like a doctor, anger contorting his face. “Are you out of your mind?” Danny snapped at the woman. “You restrained him? You do realize he’d been held against his will for over two weeks, don’t you?”

 _Two weeks?_ It felt more like months. Years, even. Eternity. Like it’d never end. God, he wanted - _needed_ this to end. 

“Well, he didn’t give us a choice,” she said in an apologetic voice. “He attacked the nurse, Detective. He is dangerous not only for the staff, but he could hurt himself too. He could pull the tubing-”

“He’s been through a significant trauma and the last thing he needs is being tied down to a bed, all right?” Danny said and turned back to Steve, ignoring the woman’s objections.

The way Danny was forcefully defending his right not to be restrained and the apologetic look he gave him must’ve broken something inside him, because he started to believe, really believe this wasn’t happening in his head only. That the woman Danny was yelling at really was a doctor. That…

Danny was really here. 

Danny came for him and he’d be okay. He’d be okay. He’d be okay. Everything’s gonna be-

“Steve,” Danny said again, and finally took a few quick steps forward, going for the restrains pinning Steve down, their eyes locked the whole time.

“Danno,” Steve managed another silent whisper as he stared into the blue eyes he needed to see so much right now. “Will you get me out of here?” he pleaded. “I want to leave. Please get me out.” He could feel tears burning in the back of his eyes, but refused to let them fall. Not now. He’d been holding on this whole time, now was not the time to let go. He wasn’t crying when those monsters had wrapped an arm around his waist and yanked him against them, he didn’t cry when he’d felt like he was being torn wide open, he didn’t cry when they’d been laughed at or called a cum slut, he didn’t… And he wouldn’t cry now, when Danny was here to get him. He wouldn’t. He was stronger than that. He was… He was a Navy SEAL. Not that it’d helped him at all when they-

_No. Stop. Thinking._

Danny looked like he wanted to cry too as his fingers worked on the restraints as fast as possible despite the doctor’s protests. 

When his limbs were finally free again, Steve shared a silent ‘thank you’ look with his friend. He needed to get out of here. Because he might snap and hurt someone again, They’d tie him down again and lock him up and he didn’t want to... Couldn’t… “Where am I?” he asked.

“In a hospital,” Danny confirmed what Steve was wishing for so badly. That he wasn’t a captive anymore. But it didn’t mean this was a place he wanted to be at.

“Please,” he muttered, willing his aching body to sit up, to no avail. “I don’t want to stay here, Danny.” The heart monitor began to beep even faster, betraying his upsetting thoughts once again. “I don’t… I don’t want to-”

“Hey, Steve, look at me, babe.” Danny sat on the bed by Steve’s hip and locked eyes with him. “You’re…” he paused, as though looking for the right thing to say. “You’ve been hurt. And you need the medical care, buddy. You’re in good hands here.”

No. He didn’t want to be in anyone’s hands. He didn’t want to stay here. He didn’t want to let those people touch him, to drug him, to- “Please,” he whispered again, desperation creeping into his voice. “Get me out, Danny.”

Danny stared at him for a while. “How about we make a deal?” he said eventually. “It’s nearly midnight. You get some rest and I’ll take you home in the morning, all right? I promise.” Fear in Steve’s eyes must’ve been much more obvious than Steve intended to show, because Danny quickly added, “I’ll be with you the whole time, all right? Just one night. Can you do that for me?”

Steve took his time, but nodded in agreement eventually. He trusted Danny with his life, and if he promised to take him home and stay with him by then, he could handle one night.

“All right. Can the nurse put the IV back now?” Danny asked. 

“No. No drugs,” he said, his chest tightening with the memory of a needle in his arm back in that hell hole. And worse, what had followed.

“I won’t sedate you,” the nurse chimed in. “Just liquids and antibiotics. You came in extremely dehydrated and you inhaled some water. I doubt it was clean. Also, some of your wounds are inflamed. You don’t want it to get worse.”

Another pause to think and a nod, more hesitant this time. Holding Danny’s gaze, looking for strength in those blues, he lifted his left arm with a pained grunt and turned it palm up.

Danny stood up and moved out of the way as the nurse walked over to a cabinet by the sink and rummaged for a fresh IV kit, then strolled over to Steve. 

He shuddered, closed his eyes. He could do this. The pads of her fingers moved in firm, clinical circles over the top of his hand, searching. He barely even felt the needle after all he’d been through. He didn’t watch her hook up the tubing, he watched Danny instead. Danny, who stared at him as if expecting him to disappear any second. Funny how Steve felt that way about Danny. Like this was just a temporary relief and he’d wake up to more pain and more humiliation and more… God, he couldn’t take any more, he just couldn’t.

“I can give you something to ease the pain,” the nurse said. “At least-”

“No.” It surprised him how forcefully he’d said it. He didn’t want any more drugs than necessary. Not after being drugged against his will, after being aware of all that was happening to him, but unable to do a single thing about it. He never wanted to feel so helpless ever again.

“But-”

“I said no!” Steve snapped. “Just… no.” It was weird, how such a simple word meant that much, yet it had lost its meaning during the past two weeks. How many times did he say it? He’d lost the count. It never mattered. Never made a difference. Why would his opinion matter now?

The nurse exchanged the look with the doctor, then looked back at him. “You need-”

“He said no,” Danny stepped in and Steve was never more grateful for his partner speaking up for him. Especially knowing Danny probably shared the opinion of the medical staff trying to force him to take the drugs, but unlike them, Danny respected his choice. 

The nurse gave it up and after telling Steve to try and get some sleep, she left the room with the doctor, leaving him and Danny alone. His best friend just sat down beside him and none of them spoke for a good few minutes. It was impossible to miss how tired and glossy Danny’s eyes were, how hard he was trying to hold the tears, to be the strong one because Steve needed it right now. 

“I can’t believe you’re alive. I… I thought I’ve lost you,” Danny croaked finally, staring at him as though still afraid Steve would disappear into thin air any second. As though he wasn’t real. 

Steve couldn’t even imagine the pain Danny had to endure. He’d choose to go through all of his ordeal a thousand times again over going through what Danny must’ve been through. “Sorry,” Steve murmured after a while. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Danny said. “I’m just happy you’re alive.”

Steve didn’t say anything, just met Danny’s red, and tired-looking eyes, and Danny replied with the comforting silence. He didn’t really need the words right now, his friend’s presence alone was calming and soothing enough. His heavy eyelids fluttered after a few silent minutes. His body craved sleep, but he fought it with all his might. He thought he’d never be able to ever sleep again. But it showed up his exhaustion was stronger than his memories and fear.

He slept, kind of. And he woke up screaming. The pain was still there, rippling through his whole body in waves, splitting his head into halves, but he didn’t care. What he cared about was that someone’s hands were holding him down, and he wasn’t going through this again, he couldn’t-

“Steve.”

He could feel the hot breath on his neck, the sticky tongue licking it all the way up to his ear as those hands pushed him down, as his belly was scraping against the hard floor, sliding forward with each punishing thrust. He struggled and twisted, but it didn’t matter, it just made everything even worse, and those monsters, especially Barry, happier.

_“That’s it, McGarrett, you know I like it this way. Just keep squirming. Feels good.”_

No. No, no, no. 

“Steve! Hey! Babe, it’s me. Look at me, Steve, come on.” 

That voice was awfully familiar and it certainly wasn’t Barry’s. “D… Danny?”

“Yeah, it’s me. It was just a bad dream, all right?”

He wanted to scream at him that it was so much more than a dream. It was his reality for over two weeks, as Danny had said. Awful, terrible reality. But he bit his tongue and opened his eyes to Danny’s face, a worried squint on it. Realizing there were still hands on his shoulders, even though they were Danny’s, he went rigid as he tried to calm his frantic breathing. Danny must’ve noticed, because he let go of him with an almost inaudible apology and stepped back, but didn’t go away, instead sat on the bed by Steve’s hip, handed him a cup of water and held his gaze, giving Steve time to calm down at his own pace. 

“I talked to the doc,” Danny said after a few moments, when Steve got his breath back under control. “We’d all be happier if you stayed for at least a day or two, but the paperwork will be ready after the morning rounds if you really want to leave.” 

“Yeah, I do,” Steve croaked, but then something quite important and equally as embarrassing popped up on his mind. “But I… I don’t have any clothes.” 

“I’ve got you covered, buddy,” Danny said, gesturing toward the small duffel bag on the floor. “I asked Chin to stop by at your place and bring you something, I hope you don’t mind.”

He wanted to say it was all right, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Any other time, he would be happy his friends visited him, but not this time. Not when what he’d been through must’ve been written on his forehead, in big, block capital letters. And even if not, whatever Jax made Danny see, the rest of the team probably saw it too.

They knew. The whole world will know.

“Hey,” Danny said. “I’m sorry if you didn’t want him to come here. But I promised I’d stay with you and he really wanted to see himself that you’re not… that you’re alive.” His voice almost broke with the last few words. 

He blinked and nodded, because of course, Chin needed to know. 

“Get some more sleep, Steve,” Danny said in a low, calming tone. “You’ve got another hour or so before the morning rounds. I’ll take you home after the doc clears you.”

He wanted to protest, to tell Danny he didn’t want to sleep ever again, but instead, he closed his eyes and tried his best to remember the feeling of salty breeze in his face instead of a gross, sticky mess. Tried to remember the waves washing over his body instead of blood on his skin. Tried to remember the sun setting, the colors of the clouds reflecting on the blue water instead of Barry’s cock right in front of his face. 

And the only thing that made it possible to shut his brain off for a moment long enough to let him fall asleep again was knowing Danny was there, by his side. That he’d never hurt him and never let anyone do so under his watch. 

He just hoped Danny would still be there when he’ll wake up. That this wasn’t a wishful dream, a desperate imagination of his mind pushed beyond the limits.


	8. Chapter 8

It wasn’t a good idea and Danny was well aware of that. But how could he force Steve to stay, to force him to let the strangers see his weaknesses and touch him, when clearly his friend was so desperate to run away from that, no matter the pain he must’ve been in. No matter the injuries he had.

Talking the doctor into releasing Steve into his care wasn’t an easy task either. But a promise to make Steve come in for a check-up every day for the next week, along with stating the fact his stubborn friend would leave whether any of them liked it or not, helped to do the trick. 

Steve was sitting on the passenger’s seat, looking outside through the window and saying nothing as Danny drove through the busy streets of Honolulu. His eyes were empty. Lifeless. As he’d been through one horror too many. He hadn’t made a sound - other than a pained groan once in a while - since saying goodbye to the hospital staff.

Danny, still processing the fact he had his best friend back, desperately wanted to soothe and comfort him, but wasn’t sure if anything on this Earth could do that. So he took Steve’s silence as a cue and went along with it, however uncomfortable and out of ordinary it felt.

They drove in complete silence until they reached Steve’s place. Danny noticed Steve had a limp as he dragged himself inside, and had to fight the urge to help him out. His heart ached at the thought of Steve’s walking in his battered state and yet Steve said no words of the complaint as he made his way forward. Actually, no word at all. 

Over the years, their relationship grew so strong, that even the silence became comfortable. But this time it was different. Tense. And besides wanting to say a million words, Danny kept his mouth shut. What was there to say, anyway? _I’m sorry I fucked it up? I’m sorry for not finding you on time? I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, but I’m here now? Everything will be all right?_ His best friend was tortured and raped for God’s sake, how could it ever be all right? Not to mention Danny would never get that picture out of his head. Just like the guilt gnawing at him for letting all of that happen. 

Without granting Danny as much as a single look, Steve headed straight for the stairway as soon as Danny closed the door behind them. 

“Steve?” Danny spoke up, unable to hold it any longer. It was enough to make his friend stop, but not enough to make him turn around and face him. “I’ll be here if you need anything, all right?” That was a dumb thing to say, but it was all he had at the moment.

“Thanks,” Steve murmured, and clutching onto the railing for dear life, he kept walking.

* * *

Steve felt his stomach cramp with utter misery as he made his way upstairs to the bathroom. And he’d swear he could feel Danny’s scrutinizing gaze burning a hole in his back as he climbed the stairs as fast as his broken body allowed him.

He was doing his best not to stop thinking, to focus on pain instead, to draw the attention away from what hurt much more than the broken bones and bruises, more than wounds he’d earned, more than anything he’d ever experienced. And it was working for a while, as he was removing the dressings from his head and wrists, cringing at the sight of the marks cut into his skin by the nylon rope. It actually wasn’t until Steve was in the shower and his skin was bright red from the hot water that he began to recall the last two weeks he’d been gone. 

Over and over, against his will, his mind kept replaying the misery he’d just survived. No matter what he did, he heard their voices and felt their hands on his flesh. He heard them laughing and mocking him even behind the locked door of his bathroom.

Steve covered his ears, trying to block out things he didn’t want to remember hearing. Things he didn’t want to remember doing. But it didn’t help.

He couldn’t breathe as all he could think of was how Jax’s men gang-raped him. Repeatedly. Their laughter while they swapped turns with him echoed in his ears. Bile rose in his throat as shame filled every inch of his bloodied heart. 

He was trained to handle torture. He could do that. But those monsters had figured out a way how to put him through the whole new kind of hell. One he wasn’t sure he knew how to handle. 

Steve’s legs buckled as he remembered Barry’s laugh after he’d finished with him the first time. _I’ve cracked this tight cop ass for you. Now, who wants to break it in good?_

Shame and pain shredded his soul. During his law enforcement career, he had crossed paths with a few victims of such a terrible, violent act, but not even in the worst nightmare he’d imagined he - Steve McGarrett, the head of Five-0, a Navy SEAL - would be one of them one day. That he’d be stripped of all the dignity and he’d be handled as an object to be used, abused, laughed at, turned and hurt, rather than a human being.

_You’re nothing more than a hole now. Better get used to it._

Abashed and shaken, Steve let the hot water burn his skin, ignoring the stinging wounds, wondering if making it out alive was a blessing or a punishment. Maybe it’d be better if he had died there. Because not even the longest shower ever would be ever enough to wash away what he was feeling right now. 

He felt so unclean. So filthy and fouled. And as he washed himself, he remembered their hands on him as they violated every part of his body and shuddered when he touched himself to clean the filth and from the most intimate parts. 

_Suck it up! You’re a Navy SEAL!_ His mind shouted at him. _The head of a special taskforce. You’re trained to withstand anything. You’re-_

_You’re a used whore._ Doug’s voice easily drowned out his own as pain racked him again. 

How could he ever hold his head up after this, knowing what they’d done to him? Knowing what they’ve been doing to him for what felt like an eternity? It had been bad enough when they tortured him in any way imaginable before Barry, who just couldn’t tear his gaze away from Steve’s body, came up with an idea how to enjoy his suffering even more. And then it was so much worse. 

The water was icy cold by the time he finished in the shower, the horror memories still flooding his mind.

How could he ever think of something other than the hellhole he’d been held at, where those monsters had…

He barely managed to make it to the toilet, before his stomach lost all its content at the memories. 

His breathing ragged, Steve wiped a trembling hand over his mouth and did his best to control his raging and raw emotions. 

Hissing in pain as he stood back up, pain consuming every inch of his body in protest, he tried his damn best to focus on that once again. On the pounding headache that blurred his vision, on the stabbing pain in his ribcage with every breath, on the agonizing feeling of the split skin on his back, on the feeling of his insides being ripped apart, on every single bruise and scrape that marred his skin.

He barely managed to resist the urge to puke again as he washed his face and mouth in the sink. Mouth they’d stuffed with their foul cocks, just like his torn ass. 

Shuddering despite the Hawaiian heat, he wrapped a towel around his waist and headed toward the door. But he wasn’t careful enough to avoid a look into the foggy mirror, distorting his reflection a little, but not enough. He froze at the sight of himself. The first thing that caught his attention was a badly headling wound along his hairline, the cause of the relentless headache he couldn’t get relief from. His face was like a canvas filled with an abstract painting made of dark bruises, cuts, and gushes, completed by a stitched up lower lip. His eyes were sunken and swollen. Red and bloodshot from the exhaustion and the drugs. Yet what filled him with complete consternation wasn’t his face, but the ligature mark on his neck and all the other marks all over his body. The dozens of bruises, scratches, burns, scrapes, and bite marks. He could see where those monsters had suckled different parts of him, and in some places, he could see the whole handprints. He barely recognized himself. 

This is how the whole world could see him. How Danny could see him. Video or not, just one look was enough to know the way he’d been violated. He could as well just write it on his forehead, with big, block capital letters for everyone to see.

Covering his face with his hands, he wanted to scream from the horror of it. 

Consumed with hate and fury, Steve curled up the fist on his good hand and slammed it up against the glass, shattering it into hundreds of tiny pieces. Bellowing with the weight of his humiliation, he pounded the wall until he was spent and too tired to continue.

Surrounded by broken glass, he sank to his knees and raked his bleeding hand through his hair. Just a knock on the door and a voice so concerned it stabbed at his heart made him remember he wasn’t alone in the house. 

Briefly aware of his best friend calling his name, Steve breathed out a sigh, squeezing his eyes shut, wishing he hadn’t done that. Too late for that, though.

How could he ever face Danny again? Or anyone else knowing what had been done to him? How could he ever be the man they thought he was? The man he’d been before? He felt more like a fraud. He wasn’t a man. In truth, he wanted to hide and never see anyone again. 

How would Danny look at him if he knew his best friend was so weak and ineffectual he’d been held down and used against his will, over and and over over again, and that the only thing he’d been able to do was to fight the tears and pray for the end while they violated him? 

He didn’t know if he’d ever be able not to feel so worthless and… _powerless_. Yes, that was the right word. 

Despite all he’d been through in the past, for the first time in his life, Steve felt powerless.

* * *

Nearly forty-five minutes Steve had spent in the bathroom didn’t surprise Danny despite his friend’s usual three-minute shower. Considering the situation, it was to be expected. What did surprise him, though, was the sound of breaking glass coming from there and the silence that followed. 

Danny took the stairs three at a time as he rushed to find out what had happened. He froze just before reaching for the door handle and knocked instead. “Steve? You okay in there?” The answer never came and it was suspiciously silent on the other side of the door. 

Fear crept into his voice when he called out again. “Steve? Answer me, buddy.” 

Quiet. 

He tried the door handle with rising panic. It was locked. 

“Steve!” he yelled, feeling his heart slamming against his ribcage. “Open the door!”

Silence again.

Panic, cold and brutal, gripped him and it took everything he had not to kick the door out straight away and bolt into the bathroom.

“Steve?” he tried again, his voice growing more urgent. “Babe, say something, please.”

Nothing.

He took a deep breath. Banged on the door again. “Steve if you won’t answer I’m just gonna come in!”

Still, a quiet was the only answer and the knot grew bigger in his stomach, his mind racing through all the possible scenarios. 

“All right, that’s it, Steven!” He smashed the fisted hand against the door. “Last chance.”

Danny listened carefully for a sign of movement, for any kind of response, but he got nothing. The panic and fear taking over, he channeled the strength he needed and kicked the door open.

He got a close-up view of the damage when he’d barged into the bathroom. His breath caught in his throat. He never wanted to cry so much in his life and yet he found his eyes strangely dry - even as anger bubbled inside when he saw his friend. 

Steve was slumped on the floor between the tiny pieces of the broken glass, his side and head leaned against the wall, his arms loosely rested on his knees. The only thing covering him up was a towel tied around his waist. He was wet, water still dripping from his hair, and he didn’t move a muscle as Danny entered. He merely sat there, leaned on the wet tiles, staring over Danny’s shoulder, his gaze fixed somewhere on the wall behind him. 

With his friend half-naked, Danny had a chance to drink in the details he didn’t have a chance to see with the clothes on. 

Steve’s skin was marked with narrow welts and cuts, blackened by bruises from rough handling and beating, covered with small, angry-looking, round burns, and red scorch marks coming in pairs. There were places where entire handprints were still visible from his abuse. His scraped knees and shins had a kind of pattern cut into them, the one reminding the wired cage Danny had seen back in Sanchez’s compound. The ligature marks on his neck and wrists were in sync with the finger-shaped bruises on his jaw and the bite marks all over his body, and the very obvious reason behind them made Danny’s stomach churn. He couldn’t even imagine the horrors Steve must’ve faced alone in that place, without any hope for the rescue. 

“Steve?” Danny’s voice was a mere whisper, soft and careful. He crouched next to Steve and clenched his fists to keep from reaching out to him. He just wanted to gather him into his arms and hold him until the nightmare his friend had been through was completely erased from his memory. If only it was possible.

“Hey, babe?” he tried again. “Look at me.”

Steve blinked. Something like confusion passed over his face, and then a flicker of what might have been panic, and then he went blank. He lowered his gaze to the floor and locked his arms around his knees. “I’m sorry,” Steve whispered. “I… I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Danny’s heart clenched at the pain he heard in his voice. “It’s all right,” he said, glancing at Steve’s bloodied knuckles. “I know you didn’t.”

Not only Steve didn’t say anything after his apology, but he didn’t even seem to hear Danny’s voice. He was so close Danny could touch him, yet he seemed a million miles away.

“Steve?” he repeated after a while, his concern growing. “Let me see that hand.” He gestured toward the damaged knuckles of Steve’s hand, scanning for the remaining glass, but from where he was, he couldn’t see much.

Steve shook his head no. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

Danny released a defeated sigh. “Okay. So what are you still doing here?”

Steve looked up briefly. The light caught in his hazelly-blue eyes. They were unfocused. Empty. It was almost easy to look him in the eye and see nothing at all looking back. 

“Shower,” Steve replied matter-of-factly a beat too late.

Danny raised an eyebrow. “The water’s not running anymore.”

With a confused frown, Steve looked up as though verifying Danny’s statement, then his head dropped again without a word. 

Danny resisted the urge to raise his hand and trace Steve’s bruised jawline. To throw his arms around his friend’s shoulders, pull him into a tight hug, and never let go again. To tell him it was all right. But who was he kidding? Nothing was all right. Maybe it’ll never be again.

“Buddy.” Danny’s heart cracked when Steve didn’t move, didn’t even blink, didn’t reply. “Let’s get you to the bed, all right?” 

At first, Danny thought there will be no answer whatsoever, but after a while, Steve nodded. After quite a while, actually. It was like there was a period of time between the hearing and reacting.

“Do you need help?” he asked hesitantly when Steve didn’t make a move. The last thing he wanted was to invade Steve’s privacy even more, but Steve didn’t seem capable of doing much by himself right now. Knowing his friend, though, he knew the answer before he’d even asked.

A few seconds delay and careful avoidance of direct eye contact were followed by a brief shake of Steve’s head. 

“All right,” he said and stood up. It was impossible to miss how Steve flinched with Danny’s sudden movement. “I’ll wait outside, okay? Make sure you clean that hand up.” 

No answer this time, just a blank stare locked at the same spot on the floor. 

Trying to ignore his bleeding heart, Danny walked outside and closed the door behind him. He leaned his back and head against the cold wall and shut his eyes close. He wanted to scream at the injustice of this. To cry for what’s been stolen from his friend. To do both at the same time. If there was anything… anything to fix this for Steve, he’d do it at all costs. But it wasn’t that easy. There wasn’t a way to undo what had been done, to simply fix this. There was nothing he could do and he’d never felt so useless in his life.

He should be relieved. Happy, even. Steve was alive and for the last fifteen days that was the only thing he’d been wishing for. But seeing his super SEAL, the toughest person he’d ever known, in such a state was more than he was ready for. 

It wasn’t like Steve hadn’t been beaten up and tortured before. Unfortunately, the man had more than his fair share of such experience on his account. But this time, it was different. Because SEAL or not, he was still human. And no matter how strong and resilient a person was, rape would cause irreparable damage to anyone. Damage Danny wasn’t sure he could help with. He wished there was some kind of manual to know what to do or what to say because right now it felt like if he didn’t tiptoe around, he might say something too loud or move too fast and spook Steve even more. 

It took forever for Steve to show up in the doorway, dry and - thank God - dressed in a dark blue t-shirt and sweatpants. The way he carried himself - his arm wrapped around his ribcage, making small and careful steps as the fingers on his newly damaged hand gently touched the wall for support - broke Danny’s heart all over again. His instinct screamed at him to wrap his arm around Steve's back and help him out, but having someone so close to him was probably the last thing Steve wanted right now. 

Danny watched as Steve sat - extremely carefully and grimacing in pain - on the bed and scooted into the middle, hiding under the blanket. He could see Steve was fighting the exhaustion, if the forceful way he was trying to keep his eyes open was any cue. 

“Why don’t you get some rest,” he suggested, knowing the exact reason his friend was clearly so afraid of closing his eyes.

Steve rearranged the blanket at his shoulders, tucking himself in completely, but shook his head. “I slept at night. I’m not tired.”

That was bullshit. The bags under his eyes and the way his chin kept dipping toward his chest made that perfectly clear. But if Danny had been through even half of what Steve had been through - and that’s only considering the little information he knew based on doctor’s examination, the brief look at the room Steve had been held in, and the videos that haunted Danny in his sleep - he was pretty sure he’d never sleep again. The nightmares must be unreal - Steve’s morning awakening in a hospital was a strong proof of that. 

Danny was halfway through patting his arm before he remembered that touching his friend was probably the worst thing he could do right now. He let his hand drop beside him. “You have to rest up, buddy.”

Steve’s eyes hardened. “I’m fine.”

“You’re-” Danny stopped himself again, shook his head. Steve didn’t need reminding of how damaged his body was. He was living inside it. And despite everything, he was the same stubborn animal he’d always been, unable to let someone take care of him, unable to show his emotions.

Danny knew the real reason behind this stubbornness, though, so he opted for a different approach. “Steve, I’ll stay right here, okay?” 

Steve’s gaze raked over Danny, as though searching for some kind of proof that Danny would really be there when he wakes up. That he wouldn’t be back in that hellhole, tied up, waiting for another round of endless torture and brutal rape.

“Okay,” Steve whispered eventually. “I’ll… try.”

Danny faked a smile and watched Steve shuffle under the blanket for a while.

Steve was out in less than two minutes and Danny stayed there as promised, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching Steve’s bruised face and the uncovered wound in his hairline. Wondering if he’d ever feel less guilty about what Steve had been through, Danny thanked God and the universe for giving his friend another chance, for bringing him back to him. 

And as he watched Steve grimacing and wincing in his restless sleep, he realized the hardest part of this whole nightmare wasn’t over. It just started.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a while. Life gets crazy sometimes. A short update, but here it is!

The lustful look in Barry’s eyes as the bastard’s feather-light caress changed into a painful twist of Steve’s raw nipple scared the crap out of him. The bastard really did enjoy his torture the most of them all. Enjoyed touching, teasing, biting, hurting every part of his battered body. 

Faster than he’d like, Steve lost his inner fight and turned his face away.

“Uh-uh,” Barry grabbed a handful of Steve’s hair and roughly pulled it back, forcing Steve to look at him. “Don’t you dare to look away, McGarrett. Your face it too pretty when you suffer. I don’t wanna miss a second of it.” The hand wandering down Steve’s belly sent a violent shiver down his spine. But it didn’t stop there. All the gentleness gone now, Barry grabbed Steve’s cock and squeezed, taking his breath away for a moment. “You know you like it, little whore. You came all over the place last night. Want a reminder? I bet you’d love it.”

Steve felt the fear burning a hole in his chest. If there was anything worse than being taken by force, it was the fact that he had no control over his traitorous body whatsoever when it happened. He didn’t like it. Not a second of it. He didn’t! And yet, Barry’s words were true. The bastard and his friends had prodded and stroked and teased, and to his captors’ great amusement, there was nothing he could do to stop it. God, he couldn’t go through that again. “S-stop, please,” he croaked, desperately trying to free his bound limbs, far beyond the point he wouldn’t beg.

But Barry’s smug grin only grew wider as he began stroking him with one hand and pulling his hair with the other. Yet it wasn’t Barry’s hands that knocked all the wind out of his lungs. It was a kiss Barry forced on him, hot and wet, gentle at first, but only for a moment, before his teeth sank into Steve’s lower lip and drew blood. Steve just waited it out, held his breath until he could no longer feel Barry’s lips on his, stunned by the way a kiss could feel worse than a hand on his genitals. He knew better than to bite in defense by now. He’d made that mistake before and everything got so, so much worse. 

Every time he thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did and even though he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, that his body was in its last limits, he was still there, still alive. After all he’d been through, it left him wondering what else was still to come. Because he knew no one was coming for him. Danny and his whole team thought he was dead. He was alone, left here to suffer till the very end. And yet, somehow, he was still holding on to tiny shreds of hope. 

“No,” Steve tried again, his aching muscles tensing more and more every second. No matter what he did, or what he tried to think about, he was getting hard under his rapist’s hand. Somehow, that was the worst of it all, because it felt good for a moment. And how could it feel good when he was being raped? How was it even possible? 

“Shh, come on,” Barry teased, nibbling on Steve’s neck while still playing with him. “If you didn’t like this, you wouldn’t be so hard, would you? Don’t fight it, just let go.”

Steve was about to say something when he heard someone calling out his name.

“Steve!” the voice was familiar but he couldn’t place it.

And Barry’s hand was still there, still teasing, still-

“Steve!” He opened his eyes to a voice that wasn’t Barry’s. “Wake up, babe!”

Danny’s face loomed in the semi-darkness and everything came back to him. “Danny,” Steve managed to say between the rapid breaths. “S-sorry.” He didn’t want to wake Danny up again. He stopped counting how many times his friend must have been up because of his nightmares.

“It’s okay. You’re all right,” Danny ensured him, unsuccessfully trying to mask his worried gaze with a hint of a smile. “You’re safe.”

All right. Safe. He was at home. Danny was here. Barry was dead. 

Steve remembered the dream, remembered how close, almost identical in fact, to the reality it was. He nodded, trying to get his breathing back under control. “Yeah,” he said, glancing around the room just to make sure it was real, then back to his friend. “I’m fine. Just a dream.” 

He could see Danny was caught between wanting to touch him and trying not to, unsure what would be the right thing to do, and since Steve was just as confused as Danny over the matter, he had nothing to offer. “I’m fine,” he repeated, trying his best to ignore the rising panic. “Go back to bed. You should get some sleep.”

“Don’t worry about me. I can stay,” Danny insisted.

Steve wanted him to stay, just like that first night, but at the same time, he couldn’t stand the fact his friend was seeing him this way. Trying to push his embarrassment aside, he spoke up again. “Just go. Please.”

“Okay,” Danny said with a defeated sigh, and Steve watched him leave, despite his heart screaming at him to call his friend back.

He remembered a time when Danny’s presence in hard times was everything he needed to make the world right again and now, he couldn’t even bring himself to look him in the eye. He felt miserable that he couldn’t return the kindness and started feeling guilty. He always felt horrible about the way he was reacting these days, but he couldn’t help it. His reactions were no longer in his own control. Nothing was anymore.

The pain from having moved his body too much during the dream was beginning to bother him again, but there was no way in hell he’d use any extra meds. The pain was good. It kept his mind occupied. Focused on something else. Tending to his wounds became his daily ritual because it was the only thing keeping him sane these days. 

He lay his head back down on the pillow, waiting for the agony to subside at least temporarily, feeling the pull of sleep but unable to give in, afraid there might be another Barry inspired nightmare waiting for him on the other side.

He couldn’t even bear to think about some of the things that had happened, but that didn’t matter much because his brain was getting good at picking out the worst of them and laying it bare for him, so he had to go through it again and again. As far as his brain was concerned, he was still in some damp cell and the torment was never-ending. 

And thinking about it hurt. It was a deep, terrible ache in his chest, eating up on him, slowly killing him from the inside. He thought he was used to pain, but this was a different kind of hurt, one he didn’t know quite how to deal with.

He checked the time. A few more hours and this night would be over. He could find some way to get by during the day, but the nights were the worst. He remembered Danny and the way he had looked at him, like he felt his pain, and even though Danny wasn’t always sure how to deal with this situation, he always tried so hard for Steve’s sake, and Steve wished…wished that come tomorrow he would be able to do something for him in return.

To be a friend Danny desperately wanted back. The thing was, Steve wasn’t sure it was possible. 

Because that person was dead.


	10. Chapter 10

Steve twisted and turned in his sleep. He was fully clothed under the blanket, but his mind kept going back to a time where every last piece of clothing was removed off him for the ease of access and the monsters’ pleasure.

Steve shifted between nightmares, more pleasant dreams, and consciousness. Too upset to find rest, too exhausted to rouse fully, too overwhelmed to make sense of everything that rolled like a movie behind his closed lids. 

In one dream, he was with Danny, watching the sunset from the chairs in his backyard. In another, he was just waddling through the warm waters of the endless blue, swimming into oblivion. Then the dreams morphed into his attending doctor telling him he could never leave the hospital ever again because he was way too broken, dangerous for himself and the others, and Danny sneaking him out regardless, which had never happened in reality. Before long, the dreams became a nightmare once more. Torture and rape always kept coming back.

_Hot bile choked his parched throat and every muscle in his body seemed to clench, and all it did was make Barry roar as he pounded up into Steve’s ass and used the weight and leverage on Steve’s hips to slam him down, and Steve knew Barry was coming, his nails digging into Steve’s already bloodied skin and his teeth marking Steve’s shoulder in primal dominance as he flooded Steve’s ass with hot seed._

_Barry pounded up into him again, teeth sinking past pain into Steve’s shoulder, bringing out the scared little boy in the Navy SEAL._

_He couldn’t let them know he was scared. He couldn’t! So he forced his mind to go back to the sea, waves coming, transient yet always there, rising and falling. Scattering the light, the hue of water ever-changing yet always familiar, always blue._

_But his escape didn’t take long. It never did. The bastard’s voices kept tearing him away from his oasis of peace back into the darkest place in hell._

_“Who wants another go with the little bitch?” Barry asked between the labored breaths, still lodged inside Steve, holding him down while others chuckled and laughed at their prisoner’s expense._

Names and blurry faces danced in the edges of Steve’s vision. The nightmares held him hostage much like Jax and his men had and there was no way of escape just like it hadn’t been back there. 

_Too exhausted to even bother and fight the restraints, too exhausted to do as much as lift his head up, too exhausted to do anything else but breathe, Steve let himself be dragged around and knocked down to his raw knees once again, desperately telling himself he was just biding his time, not giving up._

_Never giving up._

_He’d surely fall without Doug’s strong hold on his arm. His eyelids fluttered open, and just then he realized they’d been closed. With the soft cock of one of his captors hanging in front of his face the determination not to give up was fading slowly, along with his body’s will to simply function._

_“I don’t think you need a reminder of what’ll happen if you bite, do you?” Doug asked and it took a few moments for Steve to register the question was meant for him. His voice was stuck in his throat, though, and he couldn’t answer if he wanted to._

_The bastard was right. They made sure he regretted his latest bright idea to use his teeth as a weapon. Because whatever they did, there was always… always a less pleasant alternative on their wicked minds._

_“I asked you a question!” Dough barked, slamming a fist right into Steve’s temple, causing nausea to rise and sending his head into a relentless spin. “Do you need a reminder?”_

_Steve swallowed down the pain and scrambled his energy to shake his head no._

_“Good. Now you’ll be a good whore and suck my friend really well,” Doug said._

_The man in front of him chuckled, but Steve didn’t waste the precious energy to look up at him. “I’d try my best if I were you,” he said. “Cause that’s all the lube you’ll get.”_

Steve whimpered in his sleep. His body was tense with frustration. 

_He was back on his knees, a loop tight around his neck as he fought the urge to close his eyes and sleep for the rest of his life. He couldn't afford to, though. He needed to remain as alert as he could manage. Sleep wouldn’t help to end his nightmare._

_But maybe nothing would. Maybe he’d live like this from now on. Beaten down on his knees, on a brink of death but not quite there yet._

_Was that all he had to look forward to for the rest of his life - pain and misery and suffering and fear and degradation?_

_He knew that bruises would fade and fractures would knit back together, but some injuries would never go away. Like brain damage that got worse and worse and worse until there was nothing left of him but a shell. And the pain he was feeling was the kind that festered and grew by torturous inches until it threatened to kill him._

_Maybe he wouldn’t mind, after all._

_And he hated himself for that thought, for being so weak to even let himself think that way, but didn’t every man have his limits? Hadn’t he been through enough already?_

_A hand on his inner thigh brought him back from the dangerous cloud of dark thoughts, and slowly, it moved higher and higher, ignoring Steve’s clenching muscles as it reached-_

Gasping for air, Steve startled awake. It took him a moment to realize he was in his bedroom, but the realization didn’t stop him from frantically glancing around, assuring himself it was just another nightmare. Or a memory. He could no longer tell the difference as the two were always almost identical anyway.

Unable to sleep, Steve left the bed and trudged downstairs, where Danny was asleep on the couch, sneaked past his friend as quietly as possible, and headed to his backyard. 

Drawing a careful breath of fresh air into his lungs, he slumped down in one of the chairs on the beach. For a long moment, he just sat quietly, absently massaging his still bandaged wrists, and stared out into the darkness, where he could hear the calm waves of the Pacific washing over the sand. 

It was all so normal. Like nothing had ever happened. Like he’d never been kidnapped, threatened, tortured and raped. But he knew better.

The voices of Jax’s men were still wreaking havoc inside of him, being one of the many reasons he could never sleep these nights. The names he’d been called, the laughs his suffering had inflicted, the voices of his tormentors blended into one blurry mess, leaving him feeling totally numb on the inside, unable to hear anything else. 

His body was slowly healing after being beaten and broken in captivity. He still had constant headaches, and that would probably be the case for quite a while, considering his head had almost been blown off. The dull ache in his ribs annoyed him just as constantly and some of the wounds on his back were still infected. 

New scars now decorated his body, but the one circling his neck bothered him the most of them all for some reason. He ran his fingers along the rough line of dead skin, the rope tied too tight and being dragged around like an animal instantly appearing in his memory. Some of his scars would fade in time, some were there to stay. This one was one of the latter and for the rest of his life, every look into the mirror would constantly remind him of being kept on a leash, forced to kneel until his knees were raw and bleeding, until his muscles shook and cramped, until he was almost ready to just let go. What was worse, unlike most of the other scars, he couldn’t hide this one, so everybody else would see it too and he was certain he wouldn’t avoid the curious stares and questions he didn’t want to answer. 

Steve snorted quietly to himself and leaned his head back, struggling with his anger. Anger was new. He’d never been an angry person, but now he was constantly on the verge of lashing out, especially when his headache began to pound. What he hated the most about it was that it was Danny who had to put up with his anger and insomnia, because his friend had refused to leave him alone and he’d made himself at home at Steve’s couch. And Steve was extremely grateful for that, he really was, because he wasn’t sure he would manage to get through the days knowing he was all alone. 

Unaware of the time passing, Steve let the sound of the ocean wash away the horrors of his latest ordeal, at least for a short moment. It worked for long enough to allow him to drift and exhaustion took care of the rest, talking him back into a restless sleep.

He was back in hell when someone woke him up. Disoriented and ready to fight, he flew out of his chair and pounced on the bastard touching his arm. Vission blurry, he gripped the guy by the throat and they ended up on the ground.

“Steve!” 

The sound of Danny’s voice made Steve slow down his movements. 

“Let go of me, would you?” Danny growled.

His breathing ragged, Steve took in the scene. The backyard. The beach. The ocean. He was back home. Not hell. Not that metal cage or the torture room. Not under someone’s naked body. Danny was here. He was safe. 

“Fuck.” Steve released a choked breath and relaxed, releasing his grip. He sat up, staring at his friend. “I’m sorry, Danny. I thought…” he muttered in a strangled voice, unable to finish that sentence out loud. 

Danny sat up too, rubbing at his neck. “It’s okay,” he said. “Should’ve known better than to sneak on a Navy SEAL.” 

It was far from okay. He’d just attacked his best friend. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Hey.” Danny’s voice softened. “It’s okay, really. I just thought you might wanna go back in. I’ve made coffee and breakfast. You have to eat something. I’d bring it here but it looks like it’s about to start raining anyway.” 

Steve drew his brows in confusion. Deep in thoughts, he didn’t even realize the darkness had been replaced by daylight and a gloomy sky now loomed over them. 

He shook his head no. He’d lost too much weight too quickly, and his stomach gurgled, but just a simple thought of food made him want to puke. He counted seconds as he took a deep breath in, the monsters’ voices torturing his mind once again. _“You hungry, bitch? Here, suck on this.”_

One. Two. Three. Four. Exhale. Repeat.

It turned out Danny had been right about the rain. The first drop landed on Steve’s face and he tried really hard to focus on the water, on being outside and free, on being able to see the sky and feel something else than pain and misery. As he tried to force the unwanted memories away, he noticed Danny’s worried squint as his friend was still sitting there beside him in the sand without a complaint even as the rain got heavier and heavier. 

None of them spoke, and Steve kept his gaze locked on the water, completely oblivious to his clothes being soaked. The waves were an ever-changing mosaic of the blue made so glorious by their splashes. Their movement was in so many directions, yet to his soul, it felt the entire scene as if it were some soothing movie. Just like the usual reflections of the sun, he could watch the rain on the sea all day, sit there with water on his skin. It was nice to have the calmness of the scene within feel so secure, albeit for a moment.

The familiar beauty of the view that has kept him sane during the never-ending torment must’ve cracked something inside him, pushing him to the point when he could feel the tears stinging in the back of his eyes, but refused to release them. “I thought I’d never see this again,” he whispered, more for himself than for his best friend to hear, his eyes still on the raindrops disappearing in the dark blue waters of the ocean. 

He could feel Danny’s gaze on him, but his friend remained silent, as if expecting more to come. 

“I thought that was it, you know? That I was gonna die there,” Steve kept talking, surprised by how easily those words were coming out. “At some point, I wished I did,” he added and shifted his gaze full of shame to his best friend, looking him in the eye. Really looking at him for the first time since he’d been back and he saw a different kind of a pain in those blues, processing Steve’s honest confession.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Danny said, shuffling in the wet sand, ignoring the rain whipping his skin. He seemed as though he wanted to say more, but for whatever reason, he didn’t. 

It took a few long moments and deep breaths before Steve gathered the strength to ask what had been lingering on his mind since he’d seen the camera trained on him for the first time. “How much did you see?” 

Danny squeezed his eyes shut for a second, shook his head when he opened them again. “Enough.”

“And others?” Steve fought to keep his composure, not to let his voice break or the tears fall. “Did they…?”

“Not much. But enough to know.” 

It was Steve’s turn to squeeze his eyes shut with the thought of his whole team knowing what had happened and the uncertainty of what Danny had seen. He remembered the fear rippling through him when Barry and the others tore the screams out of his throat, when he’d given up on fighting and just hoped it’d end soon, one way or another. The fear that Danny might still be watching, seeing how weak he was, unable to stop it. 

“Talk to me, babe,” Danny pleaded.

Steve opened his eyes to his friend sitting closer, just inches away from him. His face looked tired, wrecked. Dark circles under his eyes mirrored his own and Steve felt the sudden flood of guilt for that. Unable to hold on any longer, Steve reached out with both arms - Danny let him, could read Steve’s body well enough to know he wasn’t freaking out anymore - grabbed his friend and pulled him down into a hug.

Steve realized, halfway through, what he was doing. That he was okay with it. Never mind his hurt back or aching ribs, never mind the hands on him, the strong, constricting arms. Danny squeezed right back and Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so safe.

He hadn’t meant to do it, really. But he was glad he did. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed being touched by someone who wasn’t using that touch to hurt him. No, this touch was all comfort and understanding.

He took the permission he’d been given, buried his face in Danny’s neck and just let himself go. It was strange, how Danny was cradling him in his arms as Steve’s tears mixed with rain, like handling a distressed toddler, not an ex-Navy SEAL he was. Even stranger was that Steve didn’t feel the least bit awkward about it. He probably would, later on, but right now Danny’s comfort was what he needed, what he craved so badly it physically hurt.

“Sorry,” Steve whispered against Danny’s shoulder.

“It’s all right,” Danny said, rubbing soothing circles with his hand. “It’s gonna be all right.” 

Steve didn’t believe it for a second, yet he appreciated the comforting lie. He shuddered silently against Danny for a moment, then whispered, “There were four of them, you know?” 

It wasn’t really a question, because of course, Danny knew. He’d seen it after all. 

“And they… I couldn’t… I…”

Danny kept rubbing slow, firm circles on the base of Steve’s neck, waiting silently for Steve to say whatever he needed to say. But despite the weight on his chest wanting to be gone, he didn’t know how to keep going, couldn’t find the words that wouldn’t hurt too much. So he didn’t. He just let the tears flow and let Danny to hold him in his arms.

Steve wound down after a while, exhausted again, and the creeping horror of hands on his body began to seep back in. Danny must’ve felt him tense, because he let Steve go but didn’t go away. Instead, he sat next to him and held his gaze. There was no pity in those eyes, no sickly sympathy, no disgust at the thought of what Steve had been through. Steve found he could bear his friend’s scrutinizing gaze, because Danny wasn’t seeing what everyone else seemed to see: a victim, or a body to be used and abused. No, he saw the same person he’d always seen. 

It made Steve feel… well, not strong, exactly, but maybe less hopeless. Made him think that maybe, just maybe he’d been wrong and he was still himself somewhere deep inside. That he hadn’t died at the monsters’ hands. 

That maybe there was a tiny shred of hope after all.


End file.
